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CORNELL 

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FUND     GIVEN     IN     1891     BY 

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6  670  1909736""'''""''''-'''"^ 
^'iiniiiSmiR?'^'  '**  ""scovery  in  1909  und 


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THE    NORTH    POLE 


COPY-RIGHT,    1910,    BY    FREDERICK   A     STOKES  COMP>*r.r 


THE  FIVE  FLAGS  AT  THE  POLE 

LEFT  TO  BIGHT 

1.  Navy  League — Ooqueah  3.  Polar  Flag  Carried  15  Years— Henson 

2.  D.  K.  K.  FrMtemity — Ootah  4.  D.  A.  R.  Peace  Flag— Egingwah 

5.  Red  Cross  Flag— Seegloo 


THE  NORTH  POLE 


ITS   DISCOVERY   IN    1909    UNDER  THE 

AUSPICES   OF    THE    PEARY 

ARCTIC    CLUB 


BY 

ROBERT   E.   PEARY 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

THEODORE   ROOSEVELT 

AND    A    FOREWORD    BY 

GILBERT  H.  GROSVENOR 

DIRECTOR  AND  EDITOR,  NATIONAL  GEOGRAPHIC  SOCIETY 


WITH  EIGHT  FVLI^PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS  REPRODUCING  PHOTOGRAPHIC 

ENLARGEMENTS     COLORED     BY     HAND;     ONE     HUNDRED 

ILLUSTRATIONS   IN   BLACK-AND-WHITE,   FROM 

PHOTOGRAPHS;    AND    WITH   A    MAP   IN 

COLORS    BY    GILBERT    H. 

GROSVENOR 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES   COMPANY 

1910 

T 


e 


t>70 

Copyright,  1909,  1910,  by 
Robert  E.  Peart 

Copyright,  1910,  by 
Fbedebick  a.  Stokes  Compakt 


ENTERED  AT  STATIONERS     HALL 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into  foreign 
languages,  including  the  Scandinavian 


September,  1910 


THE  ■  PLIUPTON   ■  PRESS 

[W  ■  D  •  O] 
HOBWOOD  ■  MASS  ■  u  -  s  .  A 


TO 

MY    WIFE 


INTEODUCTION 

SOME  years  ago  I  met  at  a  dinner  in  Washington 
the  famous  Norwegian  arctic  explorer,  Hansen, 
himself  one  of  the  heroes  of  polar  adventure;  and 
he  remarked  to  me,  "Peary  is  your  best  man;  in  fact  I 
think  he  is  on  the  whole  the  best  of  the  men  now  trying 
to  reach  the  Pole,  and  there  is  a  good  chance  that  he  will 
be  the  one  to  succeed."  I  cannot  give  the  exact  words; 
but  they  were  to  the  above  effect;  and  they  made  a  strong 
impression  on  me.  I  thought  of  them  when  in  the  summer 
of  1908  I,  as  President  of  the  United  States,  went  aboard 
Peary's  ship  to  bid  him  Godspeed  on  the  eve  of  what  proved 
to  be  his  final  effort  to  reach  the  Pole.  A  year  later,  when  I 
was  camped  on  the  northern  foothills  of  Mt.  Kenia,  directly 
under  the  equator,  I  received  by  a  native  runner  the  news 
that  he  had  succeeded,  and  that  thanks  to  him  the  discovery 
of  the  North  Pole  was  to  go  on  the  honor  roll  of  those  feats 
in  which  we  take  a  peculiar  pride  because  they  have  been 
performed  by  our  fellow  countrymen. 

Probably  few  outsiders  realize  the  well-nigh  incredible  • 
toil  and  hardship  entailed  in  such  an  achievement  as 
Peary's;  and  fewer  still  understand  how  many  years  of 
careful  training  and  preparation  there  must  be  before 
the  feat  can  be  even  attempted  with  any  chance  of  success. 
A  "dash  for  the  pole"  can  be  successful  only  if  there  have 
been  many  preliminary  years  of  painstaking,  patient  toil. 
Great  physical  hardihood  and  endurance,  an  iron  will  and 
unflinching  courage,  the  power  of  command,  the  thirst 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

for  adventure,  and  a  keen  and  farsighted  intelligence  — 
all  these  must  go  to  the  make-up  of  the  successful  arctic 
explorer;  and  these,  and  more  than  these,  have  gone  to 
the  make-up  of  the  chief  of  successful  arctic  explorers,  of 
the  man  who  succeeded  where  hitherto  even  the  best  and  the 
bravest  had  failed. 

Commander  Peary  has  made  all  dwellers  in  the  civi- 
lized world  his  debtors;  but,  above  all,  we,  his  fellow  Ameri- 
cans, are  his  debtors.  He  has  performed  one  of  the  great 
feats  of  our  time;  he  has  won  high  honor  for  himself  and 
for  his  country;  and  we  welcome  his  own  story  of  the 
triumph  which  he  won  in  the  immense  solitudes  of  the 
wintry  North. 

Theodore  Roosevelt. 

The  White  Nile,  March  12,  1910. 


OUPVRIGHT,    t9IO,     Bf     FHCOERICK    A,   STUKtS    OOMt-^nr 


PORTRAIT   OF   ROBERT   E.    PEARY>    IN    HIS   ACTUAL  NORTH  POLE  COSTUME 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

Introduction vii 

Foreword xv 

I    The  Plan 1 

II    Preparations     .      .           11 

III  The  Start     .      .           25 

IV  Up  to  Cape  York        34 

V    Welcome  from  the  Eskimos 42 

VI    An  Arctic  Oasis 53 

VII  Odd  Customs  of  an  Odd  People    ...  63 

VIII    Getting  Recruits        72 

IX  A  Walrus  Hunt     .                                           .79 

X  Knocking  at  the  Gateway  to  the  Pole      .  88 

XI    Close  Quarters  with  the  Ice 97 

XII    The  Ice  Fight  Goes  On 106 

XIII  Cape  Sheridan  at  Last    ...  ...  117 

XIV  In  Winter  Quarters  ....  126 
XV  The  Autumn  Work  134 

XVI  The  Biggest  Game  in  the  Arctic            .     .  143 

XVII  Musk-oxen  at  Last    .                     ....  151 

XVIII    The  Long  Night          162 

XIX  The  Roosevelt's  Narrow  Escape       .  •         .      .  172 

XX    Christmas  on  the  Roosevelt 182 

XXI  Arctic  Ice  Sledging  as  it  Really  Is        .     .  193 

XXII  Essentials  that  Brought  Success.     .           .  201 

XXIII  Off  Across  the  Frozen  Sea      .     .  213 

XXIV  The  First  Open  Water   .  ....  221 
XXV  Some  op  My  Eskimos  Lose  their  Nerve      .  230 

XXVI    BoRUp's  Farthest  North 240 

XXVII    Good  By  to  Marvin 248 

XXVIII    We  Break  all  Records 255 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIX    Babtlett  Reaches  87°  47' 264 

XXX    The  Final  Spurt  Begun 272 

XXXI    Only  One  Day  from  the  Pole       .      .      .  280 

XXXII    We  Reach  the  Pole 287 

XXXIII  Good  By  to  the  Pole 302 

XXXIV  Back  to  Land  Again        314 

XXXV    Last  Days  at  Cape  Sheridan 325 

Appendix  I 337 

Appendix  II 350 

Appendix  III 363 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FULI^PAGE    PLATES    REPRODUCING    PHOTOGRAPHIC 
MENTS  COLORED  BY  HAND 


ENLARGE- 


THE  nvE  FLAGS  AT  THE  POLE Frontispiece. 

Facing 
Page 

POETHAIT  OF  ROBERT  E.   PEART  IN  HIS  ACTUAL  NORTH   POLE  COSTUME  viii 

STELLAR  PROJECTION,   SHOWING  THE  RELATION  OF  THE  POLAR  SEA  TO  THE 

VARIOUS  CONTINENTS  AND  THE  ROUTE  OF  THE  EXPEDITION  ....     xxxii 

ESKIMO  DOGS  OF  THE  EXPEDITION  (246  IN  ALl)  ON  SMALL  ISLAND.      ETAH  PJOBD  74 

CAPTAIN  BARTLETT  AND  HIS  PARTY  (a  TYPICAL  UNIT  DIVISION  OF  THE  EXPEDI- 
TION) ...  ....  ...       140 

ILLUMINATION    OP    THE   Roosevdt    IN   WINTER   QUARTERS    ON    A   MOONLIGHT 

NIGHT  .     ".  .       .  162 

A    TYPICAL    EXAMPLE    OF    THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    WORKING    SLEDGES    OVER    A 

PRESSURE  RIDGE         .  .        .  .  240 

CROSSING  A  LEAD  ON  AN  ICE  CAKE  AS  A  FERRY-BOAT  .       .  306 


BLACK  AND  WHITE    ILLUSTRATIONS    FROM  PHOTOGRAPHS 


george  a.  wardwell,  chief  engineer 
banks  scott,  second  engineer 
robert  a.  bartlett,  master  . 
thomas  gushue,  mate 
charles  percy,  steward   .... 

professor  ross  g.  marvin,  assistant 

george  borup,  assistant 

donald  b.  macmillan,  assistant 

dr.  j.  w.  goodsell,  surgeon 

snowy  owl,  cape  sheridan    .      .  .      .  .      . 

brant  goose 

Sabine's  gull     ...  .     . 

red-throated  diver,  male  and  female 
king  eider,  drake 

ESKIMOS  COMING  OFF  TO  THE  Roosevelt  IN  KAYAKS . 

THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN  AS  SEEN  IN  THE  WHALE  SOUND  REGION 

ESKIMO  IN  KAYAK  

THE  ICE-CLIFFS  OP  HUBBARD  GLACIER 

PEART  DISTRIBUTING  UTENSILS  TO  WIVES  OP  HIS  HUNTERS  AT  ETAH 

DECK   SCENE    ON   THE   Roosevelt 

ESKIMO  MOTHER  AND  CHILD 

ESKIMO  CHILDREN 

KUDLAH,  ALIAS  "MISFORTUNE,"  WITH  PUPPIES 


Fadng 
Page 

16 
16 
16 
16 
16 
17 
17 
17 
17 
36 
37 
37 
37 
37 
42 
42 
43 
52 
S3 
53 
60 
61 
61 


xii  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Facing 
Page 

70 

71 


71 
71 
86 

87 
104 
105 


KING    ESKIMO    DOG  ....  •  ■  •        • 

THE  DOG  MARKET  AT  CAPE  TOBK  

THE  WHALE-BOAT  KETUBNINQ  TO  THE  SHIP  FROM  THE  WALRUS  HUNT       .        . 

THE  CAPE  JE3UP  GRENADIERS •        • 

HOISTING  A  WALRUS  TO  THE  DECK  OP  THE  RoOSevdt       . 

A  NARWHAL  KILLED  OFF  CAPE  UNION,  JULY,  1909.      THE  MOST  NORTHERLY  SPEC- 
IMEN  EVER  CAPTURED    ....  .  ...  .        . 

CAPTAIN  BARTLETT  IN  THE  CBOW's  NEST  .  .        . 

TABULAR  ICEBERG  AND  FLOE-ICE .        . 

THE  Roosevelt  drying  out  her  sails  at  cape  SHERIDAN,  SEPTEMBER,  1908 .  122 

THE  Roosevelt  on  September  12,  1908,  marie  ahnighito  peary's  birthday  123 

"pEABY"    SLEDGES    ON    BOARD    THE    RoOSevelt                       .                        ...  123 

VIEW  BETWEEN  THE  Roosevelt  AND  CAPE  COLUMBIA  .  .  .  .  .  136 
ESKIMO    TYPE    OF    SLEDGE    USED    ON   JOURNEY        .        .                 .        .                 .                 .137 

"PEARy"     type     OP     SLEDGE       ...                                          137 

POLAR  BEAR,   ARRANGED   BY   "FROZEN   TAXIDERMy"   AND  PHOTOGRAPHED   BY 

FLASHLIGHT                           .       .  144 

FAMILY  GROUP  OF  PEARY  CARIBOU  (Rangifer  Pearyi),  arranged  by  "frozen 

taxidermy"  and  photographed  by  FLASHLIGHT       .        .                 .        .  145 

HEAD   OF  BULL  MUSK-OX   KILLED   ON  PARBY   PENINSULA        .                                       .  152 

HI^D   OP  MUSK-OXEN  BOUNDED   UP                      .        .               153 

WEESHAKUPSI    AND    MUSK-OX     CALF       .        .                 ...                 156 

BEAR   KILLED    IN    CLEMENTS   MABKHAM    INLET       ....               .        .               .  156 

MUSK-OX  HEADS  IN  THE  RIGGING  OF  THE  RoOsevdt    .       .                                             .  157 

CARIBOU   HEADS   IN   THE   RIGGING   OF   THE   RoOSeVelt 157 

CRANE  CITY,  CAPE  COLUMBIA,  AT  THE  TIME  OF  DEPARTURE  MARCH  1,  1909       .  192 

FACE  OF  THE  LAND  ICE,  "  GLACIAL  FRINGE,"  OFF  CAPE  COLUMBIA    .               .  193 

PINNACLE     NEAR     THE     SHORE .                               .  193 

TYPICAL  TRAIL  IN  SOFT  SNOW   (LOOKING  BACKWARD)       ....  208 

TYPICAL  VIEW  OF  THE  ICE  OP  THE  ARCTIC  OCEAN   NORTH  OF    GRANT    LAND       .  209 

TYPICAL  CAMP  ON  THE  ICE            .        .                       209 

WORKING  THROUGH  AN  EXPANSE  OF  ROUGH  ICE .216 

PASSING   THROUGH    A    DEFILE    IN   ROUGH   ICE             217 

APPROACHING    A    LEAD    THROUGH    BOUGH    ICE 224 

STOPPED   BY   OPEN   WATER                                                  225 

ATHLETIC  SPOBTS  AT  THE  LEUD  CAMP           ...               .       .  232 

PICKAXING  A  ROAD  THEOUQH  ZONE  OF  HOUGH  ICE 232 

A  CHARACTERISTIC  VIEW  OP  THE  EXPEDITION  ON  THE  MARCH  IN  PINE  WEATHER .  233 

REPAIRING  SLEDGES  IN  CAMP                                                                             .        .  248 

MARVIN  TAKING  AN  OBSERVATION  IN  A  SNOW  SHELTER.        ...               .  249 

CROSSING  A  LARGE  LAKE  OP  YOUNG  ICE,  NORTH  OF  87°  .               .        .  264 

CAMP  AT  85°  48'  NORTH,  MARCH  22,  1909                           .  265 

A  MOMENTARY  HALT  IN  THE  LBB  OP  A  BIG  HTOHMOCK  NORTH  OF  88°  265 
BARTLETT  AND  HIS  PARTY  READY  TO  START  BACK  FROM  87°  47'  NORTH,  APRIL  1, 

1909                               270 

CUTTING  BLOCKS  OF  SNOW  FOB  IGLOOS  AT  NEXT  TO  LAST  CAMP,  89°  26'  NORTH  271 
THE  HALT  FOR  LUNCH  IN  LAST  FORCED  MARCH,  89°  25'  TO  89°  57',   SHOWING 

ALCOHOL  STOVES  IN  SNOW  SHELTER               ....                                                  .  284 

CAMP  MORRIS  K.  JE8UP,  89°  57',  APRIL  6  AND  7,  1909       .        .                               .  286 

THE  RECONNOITEBING  PABTY  AT  THE  POLE      ...                                       ...  288 

THE  DOUBLE  TEAM  OP  DOGS  USED  WITH  THE  RECONNOITERING  SLEDGE  AT  THE 

POLE,  SHOWING  THEIR  ALERTNESS  AND  GOOD  CONDITION  .  .  .  289 
PEART  WITH  CHRONOMETER,  SEXTANT,  AND  ABTIFICIAL  HORIZON  AT  THE  POLE  290 
PEABY  TAKING  AN  OBSERVATION  AT   THE  POLE,  WITH  ARTIFICIAL  HOBIZON,   IN 

A   8NOW  SSELTBR      ...               290 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xiii 

Fadng 
Page 

peary's  igloo  at  camp  moreis  k.  jEstrp,  APRIL  6,  1909;  the  most  northerly 

HDMAN    habitation    IN    THE    WORLD.               .                               291 

MEMBERS   OP   THE   PARTY   CHEERING   THE   STABS  AND   STRIPES   AT  THE   POLE, 

APRIL    7,    1909 ...  .294 

RETURNING  TO  CAMP  WITH  THE  FLAGS,  APRIL  7,   1909                      .                       .       .  294 

THE  FOUR  NORTH  POLE  ESKIMOS              ....                              .       .                       .  295 

E6INGWAH    SEARCHING   THE   HORIZON    FOB   LAND.                       ...               .       .  298 

PEARY  SEARCHING  THE  HORIZON  FOB  LAND .  298 

LOOKING   TOWARD   CAPE   CHELYDSKIN 299 

LOOKING  TOWARD  SPITZBEEGEN 299 

LOOKING  TOWARD  CAPE  COLUMBIA              ...  299 

LOOKING  TOWARD  BERING  STRAIT             ....  299 

ATTEMPTED  SOUNDING,  APRIL  7,  1909 302 

ACTUAL    SOUNDING,    FIVE   MILES    SOUTH    OF   THE  POLE,    APRIL   7,    1909,  1500 

TATHOMS    (9000  ft.)    NO   BOTTOM               .                .                 ....                .        .  303 

swinging  an  ice  cake  across  a  lead  to  form  an  impromptu  bridge       .      .  308 

passing  over  the  bridge                                 .                .  309 

sounding                   .           .  312 

breaking  camp.    pushing  the  sledges  up  to  the  tired  dogs.           .  312 

last  camp  on  the  ice  on  the  return                                                    .     .  313 

back  on  the  "  glacial  fringe"        ...  313 

approaching  the  peaks  of  cape  columbia  over  the  surface  of  the 

"glacial  fringe"                   .      .            ....                            .      .  318 

crane  city  at  cape  columbia,  on  the  return     .     .                                .  318 

egingwah  before  starting  on  the  sledge  trip.     .     .                .  319 

bgingwah  after  the  return  from  the  trip.           ...           .           .  319 

ootah  before  starting  on  the  sledge  trip  .      .                 ...                 .  319 

ootah  after  the  return  prom  the  sledge  trip ...  319 

permanent  monument  erected  at  cape  columbia  to  mark  point  of 

departure  and  eiltuen  of  north  pole  sledge  party.  .  324 
peary  cairn  at  cape  morris  k.  jesup  as  photographed  by  macmillan 

and  borup 325 

memorial  erected  to  the  memory  of  professor  ross    g.  marvin  at 

cape  sheridan        ...  325 

the  special  great  gold  medal  of  the  national  geographic  society  op 

washington  ....  364 
the  special  great  gold  medal  of  the  royal  geographical  society  of 

LONDON ...  .  365 

Note.  — The  general  plan  of  illustration  is  based  on  an  unusually  close  adherence  to  the  negatives, 
as  giving  more  interesting  and  valuable  results.  Many  of  the  most  important  pictures  are  from  photo- 
graphs not  retouched  in  the  least,  e.g.,  those  facing  pages  270,  284,  290,  etc.  In  others  the  sliy-line 
has  been  indicated,  e.g.,  those  facing  pages  208,  271,  299  (top),  etc.;  but  change  of  no  other  sort  has 
been  made  except  to  remove  specks  and  other  similar  mechanical  defects  not  vridely  extended.  The 
color-plates  are,  of  course,  exceptions  requiring  special  treatment.  The  PuBUSHEsa 


FOREWORD 

THE  struggle  for  the  North  Pole  began  nearly 
one  hundred  years  before  the  landing  of  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers  at  Plymouth  Rock,  being  in- 
augurated (1527)  by  that  king  of  many  distinctions, 
Henry  VIII  of  England. 

In  1588  John  Davis  rounded  Cape  Farewell,  the 
southern  end  of  Greenland,  and  followed  the  coast  for 
eight  hundred  miles  to  Sanderson  Hope.  He  discov- 
ered the  strait  which  bears  his  name,  and  gained  for 
Great  Britain  what  was  then  the  record  for  the  far- 
thest north,  72°  12',  a  point  1128  miles  from  the  geo- 
graphical North  Pole.  Scores  of  hardy  navigators, 
British,  French,  Dutch,  German,  Scandinavian,  and 
Russian,  followed  Davis,  all  seeking  to  hew  across  the 
Pole  the  much-coveted  short  route  to  China  and  the 
Indies.  The  rivalry  was  keen  and  costly  in  lives, 
ships,  and  treasure,  but  from  the  time  of  Henry  VIII 
for  three  and  one-half  centuries,  or  until  1882  (with 
the  exception  of  1594-1606,  when,  through  Wm.  Bar- 
ents, the  Dutch  held  the  record).  Great  Britain's  flag 
was  always  waving  nearest  the  top  of  the  globe. 

The  same  year  that  Jamestown  was  founded,  Henry 
Hudson  (1607),  also  seeking  the  route  to  the  Indies, 
discovered  Jan  May  en,  circumnavigated  Spitzbergen, 
and  advanced  the  eye  of  man  to  80°  23'.    Most  valu- 


XVI 


FOREWORD 


able  of  all,  Hudson  brought  back  accounts  of  great 
multitudes  of  whales  and  walruses,  with  the  result 
that  for  the  succeeding  years  these  new  waters  were 
thronged  with  fleets  of  whaling  ships  from  every  mari- 
time nation.  The  Dutch  specially  profited  by  Hud- 
son's discovery.  During  the  17th  and  18th  centuries 
they  sent  no  less  than  300  ships  and  15,000  men  each 
summer  to  these  arctic  fisheries  and  established  on 
Spitzbergen,  within  the  Arctic  Circle,  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  summer  towns  the  world  has  ever  known, 
where  stores  and  warehouses  and  reducing  stations 
and  cooperages  and  many  kindred  industries  flourished 
during  the  fishing  season.  With  the  approach  of 
winter  all  buildings  were  shut  up  and  the  population, 
numbering  several  thousand,  all  returned  home. 

Hudson's  record  remained  unequaled  for  165  years, 
or  until  1773,  when  J.  C.  Phipps  surpassed  his  farthest 
north  by  twenty-five  miles.  To-day  the  most  inter- 
esting fact  connected  with  the  Phipps  expedition  is 
that  Nelson,  the  hero  of  Trafalgar  and  of  the  Battle  of 
the  Nile,  then  a  lad  of  fifteen,  was  a  member  of  the 
party.  Thus  the  boldest  and  strongest  spirits  of  the 
most  adventurous  and  hardy  profession  of  those  days 
sought  employment  in  the  contest  against  the  frozen 
wilderness  of  the  north. 

The  first  half  of  the  19th  century  witnessed  many 
brave  ships  and  gallant  men  sent  to  the  arctic  regions. 
While  most  of  these  expeditions  were  not  directed 
against  the  Pole  so  much  as  sent  in  an  endeavor  to 
find  a  route  to  the  Indies  round  North  America  — 
the  Northwest  Passage  —  and  around  Asia  —  the 
Northeast   Passage  —  many   of   them   are   intimately 


FOREWORD  xvii 

interwoven  with  the  conquest  of  the  Pole,  and  were 
a  necessary  part  of  its  ultimate  discovery.  England 
hurled  expedition  after  expedition,  manned  by  the 
best  talent  and  energy  of  her  navy,  against  the  ice 
which  seemingly  blocked  every  channel  to  her  ambi- 
tions for  an  arctic  route  to  the  Orient. 

In  1819  Parry  penetrated  many  intricate  passages 
and  overcame  one-half  of  the  distance  between  Green- 
land and  Bering  Sea,  winning  a  prize  of  £5000,  offered 
by  Parliament  to  the  first  navigator  to  pass  the  110th 
meridian  west  of  Greenwich.  He  was  also  the  first 
navigator  to  pass  directly  north  of  the  magnetic  North 
Pole,  which  he  located  approximately,  and  thus  the 
first  to  report  the  strange  experience  of  seeing  the  com- 
pass needle  pointing  due  south. 

So  great  was  Parry's  success  that  the  British 
government  sent  him  out  in  command  of  two  other 
expeditions  in  search  of  the  Northwest  Passage.  In 
explorations  and  discoveries  the  results  of  these  two 
later  expeditions  were  not  so  rich,  but  the  experience 
in  ice  work  so  obtained  gave  Parry  conclusions  which 
revolutionized  all  methods  in  arctic  navigation. 

Hitherto  all  attempts  to  approach  the  Pole  had 
been  in  ships.  In  1827  Parry  suggested  the  plan  of  a 
dash  to  the  Pole  on  foot,  from  a  base  on  land.  He 
obtained  the  assistance  of  the  government,  which 
for  the  fourth  time  sent  him  to  the  Arctic  provided 
with  well-equipped  ships  and  able  oflBcers  and  men. 
He  carried  a  number  of  reindeer  with  him  to  his  base 
in  Spitzbergen,  purposing  to  use  these  animals  to  drag 
his  sledges.  The  scheme  proved  impracticable,  how- 
ever, and  he  was  compelled  to  depend  on  the  muscles 


xviii  FOREWORD 

of  his  men  to  haul  his  two  heavy  sledges,  which  were 
in  reality  boats  on  steel  runners.  Leaving  Spitzber- 
gen  on  June  23  with  twenty-eight  men,  he  pushed 
northward.  But  the  summer  sun  had  broken  up  the 
ice  floes,  and  the  party  repeatedly  found  it  necessary 
to  take  the  runners  off  their  boats  in  order  to  ferry 
across  the  stretches  of  open  water.  After  thirty  days' 
incessant  toil  Parry  had  reached  82°  45',  about  150 
miles  north  of  his  base  and  435  geographical  miles 
from  the  Pole.  Here  he  found  that,  while  his  party 
rested,  the  drift  of  the  ice  was  carrying  him  daily  back, 
almost  as  much  as  they  were  able  to  make  in  the  day's 
work.     Retreat  was  therefore  begun. 

Parry's  accomplishments,  marking  a  new  era  in 
polar  explorations,  created  a  tremendous  sensation. 
Knighthood  was  immediately  bestowed  upon  him 
by  the  King,  while  the  British  people  heaped  upon 
him  all  the  honors  and  applause  with  which  they  have 
invariably  crowned  every  explorer  returning  from  the 
north  with  even  a  measure  of  success.  In  originality 
of  plan  and  equipment  Parry  has  been  equaled  and 
surpassed  only  by  Nansen  and  Peary. 

In  those  early  days,  few  men  being  rich  enough  to 
pay  for  expeditions  to  the  north  out  of  their  own 
pockets,  practically  every  explorer  was  financed  by 
the  government  under  whose  orders  he  acted.  In 
1829,  however,  Felix  Booth,  sheriff  of  London,  gave 
Captain  John  Ross,  an  English  naval  officer,  who  had 
achieved  only  moderate  success  in  a  previous  expedi- 
tion, a  small  paddle-wheel  steamer,  the  Victory,  and 
entered  him  in  the  race  for  the  Northwest  Passage. 
Ross  was  assisted,  as  mate,  by  his  nephew,  James 


FOREWORD  xix 

Clark  Ross,  who  was  young  and  energetic,  and  who 
was  later  to  win  laurels  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  globe. 
This  first  attempt  to  use  steam  for  ice  navigation 
failed,  owing  to  a  poor  engine  or  incompetent  engi- 
neers, but  in  all  other  respects  the  Rosses  achieved 
gloriously.  During  their  five  years'  absence,  1829- 
1834,  they  made  important  discoveries  around  Boothia 
Felix,  but  most  valuable  was  their  definite  location  of 
the  magnetic  North  Pole  and  the  remarkable  series  of 
magnetic  and  meteorological  observations  which  they 
brought  back  with  them. 

No  band  of  men  ever  set  out  for  the  unknown  with 
brighter  hopes  or  more  just  anticipation  of  success 
than  Sir  John  Franklin's  expedition  of  1845.  The 
frightful  tragedy  which  overwhelmed  them,  together 
with  the  mystery  of  their  disappearance,  which  baffled 
the  world  for  years  and  is  not  yet  entirely  explained, 
forms  the  most  terrible  narrative  in  arctic  history. 
Franklin  had  been  knighted  in  1827,  at  the  same  time 
as  Parry,  for  the  valuable  and  very  extensive  explora- 
tions which  he  had  conducted  by  snowshoes  and  canoe 
on  the  North  American  coast  between  the  Coppermine 
and  Great  Fish  rivers,  during  the  same  years  that 
Parry  had  been  gaining  fame  in  the  north.  In  the 
interval  Franklin  had  served  as  Governor  of  Tasmania 
for  seven  years.  His  splendid  reputation  and  ability 
as  an  organizer  made  him,  though  now  fifty-nine  years 
of  age,  the  unanimous  choice  of  the  government  for 
the  most  elaborate  arctic  expedition  it  had  prepared  in 
many  years.  Franklin's  fame  and  experience,  and  that 
of  Crozier  and  his  other  lieutenants,  who  had  seen  much 
service  in  the  north,  his  able  ships,  the  Terror  and  the 


XX  FOREWORD 

Erebus,  which  had  just  returned  from  a  voyage  of 
unusual  success  to  the  Antarctic,  and  his  magnificent 
equipment,  aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  the  British  to 
the  highest  pitch  and  justified  them  in  their  hopes 
for  bringing  the  wearying  struggle  for  the  Northwest 
Passage  to  an  immediate  conclusion. 

For  more  than  a  year  everything  prospered  with 
the  party.  By  September,  1846,  Franklin  had  navi- 
gated the  vessels  almost  within  sight  of  the  coast  which 
he  had  explored  twenty  years  previously,  and  beyond 
which  the  route  to  Bering  Sea  was  well  known.  The 
prize  was  nearly  won  when  the  ships  became  impris- 
oned by  the  ice  for  the  winter,  a  few  miles  north  of 
King  William  Land.  The  following  June  Franklin 
died;  the  ice  continued  impenetrable,  and  did  not 
loosen  its  grip  all  that  year.  In  July,  1848,  Crozier, 
who  had  succeeded  to  the  command,  was  compelled 
to  abandon  the  ships,  and,  with  the  105  survivors  who 
were  all  enfeebled  by  the  three  successive  winters  in 
the  Arctic,  started  on  foot  for  Back  River.  How  far 
they  got  we  shall  probably  never  know. 

Meanwhile,  when  Franklin  failed  to  return  in  1848 
—  he  was  provisioned  for  only  three  years  —  England 
became  alarmed  and  despatched  relief  expeditions  by 
sea  from  the  Bering  Sea  and  the  Atlantic  and  by  land 
north  from  Canada,  but  all  efforts  failed  to  gather 
news  of  Franklin  till  1854,  when  Rae  fell  in  with  some 
Eskimo  hunters  near  King  William  Land,  who  told 
him  of  two  ships  that  were  beset  some  years  previous, 
and  of  the  death  of  all  the  party  from  starvation. 

In  1857  Lady  Franklin,  not  content  with  this  bare 
and  indirect  report  of  her  husband's  fate,  sacrificed 


FOREWORD  xxi 

a  fortune  to  equip  a  searching  party  to  be  commanded 
by  Leopold  MeClintock,  one  of  the  ablest  and  tough- 
est travelers  over  the  ice  the  world  has  ever  known. 
In  1859  McClintoct  verijSed  the  Eskimos'  sad  story 
by  the  discovery  on  King  William  Land  of  a  record 
dated  April,  1848,  which  told  of  Franklin's  death  and 
of  the  abandonment  of  the  ships.  He  also  found 
among  the  Eskimos  silver  plate  and  other  relics  of 
the  party;  elsewhere  he  saw  one  of  Franklin's  boats  on 
a  sledge,  with  two  skeletons  inside  and  clothing  and 
chocolate;  in  another  place  he  found  tents  and  flags; 
and  elsewhere  he  made  the  yet  more  ghastly  discov- 
ery of  a  bleached  human  skeleton  prone  on  its  face,  as 
though  attesting  the  truthfulness  of  an  Eskimo  woman 
who,  claiming  to  have  seen  forty  of  the  survivors  late 
in  1848,  said  "they  fell  down  and  died  as  they 
walked." 

The  distinction  of  being  the  first  to  make  the 
Northwest  Passage,  which  Franklin  so  narrowly  missed, 
fell  to  Robert  McClure  (1850-53)  and  Richard  CoUin- 
son  (1850-55), who  commanded  the  two  ships  sent  north 
through  Bering  Strait  to  search  for  Franklin.  McClure 
accomplished  the  passage  on  foot  after  losing  his  ship 
in  the  ice  in  Barrow  Strait,  but  CoUinson  brought  his 
vessel  safely  through  to  England.  The  Northwest 
Passage  was  not  again  made  until  Roald  Amundsen 
navigated  the  tiny  Gjoa,  a  sailing  sloop  with  gasoline 
engine,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  1903-06. 

Yankee  whalers  each  year  had  been  venturing 
further  north  in  Davis  Strait  and  BaflSn  Bay  and  Ber- 
ing Sea,  but  America  had  taken  no  active  part  in  polar 
exploration  until  the  sympathy  aroused  by  the  tragic 


xxii  FOREWORD 

disappearance  of  Franklin  induced  Henry  Grinnell  and 
George  Peabody  to  send  out  the  Advance  in  charge  of 
Elisha  Kent  Kane  to  search  for  Franklin  north  of 
Smith  Sound.  In  spite  of  inexperience,  which  re- 
sulted in  scurvy,  fatal  accidents,  privations,  and  the 
loss  of  his  ship,  Kane's  achievements  (1853-55)  were 
very  brilliant.  He  discovered  and  entered  Kane  Basin, 
which  forms  the  beginning  of  the  passage  to  the  polar 
ocean,  explored  both  shores  of  the  new  sea,  and  out- 
lined what  has  since  been  called  the  American  route 
to  the  Pole. 

Sixteen  years  later  (1871)  another  American,  Charles 
Francis  Hall,  who  had  gained  much  arctic  experience 
by  a  successful  search  for  additional  traces  and  relics 
of  Franklin  (1862-69),  sailed  the  Polaris  through  Kane 
Basin  and  Kennedy  Channel,  also  through  Hall  Basin 
and  Robeson  Channel,  which  he  discovered,  into  the 
polar  ocean  itself,  thus  completing  the  exploration  of  the 
outlet  which  Kane  had  begun.  He  took  his  vessel  to 
the  then  unprecedented  (for  a  ship)  latitude  of  82°  11'. 
But  Hall's  explorations,  begun  so  auspiciously,  were 
suddenly  terminated  by  his  tragic  death  in  November 
from  over-exertion  caused  by  a  long  sledge  journey. 

When  the  ice  began  to  move  the  ensuing  year,  his 
party  sought  to  return,  but  the  Polaris  was  caught  in 
the  deadly  grip  of  an  impassable  ice  pack.  After  two 
months  of  drifting,  part  of  the  crew,  with  some  Es- 
kimo men  and  women,  alarmed  by  the  groaning  and 
crashing  of  the  ice  during  a  furious  autumn  storm, 
camped  on  an  ice  floe  which  shortly  afterwards  sep- 
arated from  the  ship.  For  five  months,  December  to 
April,  they  lived  on  this  cold  and  desolate  raft,  which 


FOREWORD  xxiii 

carried  them  safely  1300  miles  to  Labrador,  where 
they  were  picked  up  by  the  Tigress.  During  the  win- 
ter one  of  the  Eskimo  women  presented  the  party 
with  a  baby,  so  that  their  number  had  increased  dur- 
ing the  arduous  experience.  Meanwhile  the  Polaris 
had  been  beached  on  the  Greenland  shore,  and  those, 
remaining  on  the  ship  were  eventually  also  rescued. 

In  1875  Great  Britain  began  an  elaborate  attack 
on  the  Pole  via  what  was  now  known  as  the  American 
route,  two  ships  most  lavishly  equipped  being  des- 
patched under  command  of  George  Nares.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  navigating  the  Alert  fourteen  miles  further 
north  than  the  Polaris  had  penetrated  four  years  pre- 
vious. Before  the  winter  set  in,  Aldrich  on  land 
reached  82°  48',  which  was  three  miles  nearer  the  Pole 
than  Parry's  mark  made  forty-eight  years  before,  and 
the  following  spring  Markham  gained  83°  20'  on  the 
polar  ocean.  Other  parties  explored  several  hundred 
miles  of  coast  line.  But  Nares  was  unable  to  cope 
with  the  scurvy,  which  disabled  thirty-six  of  his  men, 
or  with  the  severe  frosts,  which  cost  the  life  of  one 
man  and  seriously  injured  others. 

The  next  expedition  to  this  region  was  that  sent 
out  under  the  auspices  of  the  United  States  govern- 
ment and  commanded  by  Lieutenant  —  now  Major- 
General  —  A.  W.  Greely,  U.  S.  A.,  to  establish  at 
Lady  Frankhn  Bay  the  American  circumpolar  sta- 
tion (1881).  Greely  during  the  two  years  at  Fort 
Conger  carried  on  extensive  explorations  of  EUesmere 
Land  and  the  Greenland  coast,  and  by  the  assistance 
of  his  two  lieutenants,  Lockwood  and  Brainard, 
wrested  from  Great  Britain  the  record  which  she  had 


xxiv  FOREWORD 

held  for  300  years.  Greely's  mark  was  83°  24',  which 
bettered  the  British  by  four  miles.  As  the  rehef 
ship,  promised  for  1883,  failed  to  reach  him  or  to  land 
supplies  at  the  prearranged  point  south  of  Fort 
Conger,  the  winter  of  1883-84  was  passed  in  great 
misery  and  horror.  When  help  finally  came  to  the 
camp  at  Cape  Sabine,  seven  men  only  were  alive. 

While  these  important  events  were  occurring  in 
the  vicinity  of  Greenland,  interesting  developments 
were  also  taking  place  in  that  half  of  the  polar  area 
north  of  Siberia.  When  in  1867  an  American  whaler, 
Thomas  Long,  reported  new  land,  Wrangell  Land,  about 
500  miles  northwest  of  Bering  Strait,  many  hailed  the 
discovery  as  that  of  the  edge  of  a  supposed  continent 
extending  from  Asia  across  the  Pole  to  Greenland, 
for  the  natives  around  Bering  Strait  had  long  excited 
explorers  by  their  traditions  of  an  icebound  big  land 
beyond  the  horizon.  Such  extravagant  claims  were 
made  for  the  new  land  that  Commander  De  Long, 
U.  S.  N.,  determined  to  explore  it  and  use  it  as  a  base 
for  gaining  the  Pole.  But  his  ship,  the  Jeannette,  was 
caught  in  the  ice  (September,  1879)  and  carried  right 
through  the  place  where  the  new  continent  was  sup- 
posed to  be.  For  nearly  two  years  De  Long's  party 
remained  helpless  prisoners  until  in  June,  1881,  the 
ship  was  crushed  and  sank,  forcing  the  men  to  take 
refuge  on  the  ice  floes  in  mid  ocean,  150  miles  from 
the  New  Siberian  Islands.  They  saved  several  boats 
and  sledges  and  a  small  supply  of  provisions  and  water. 
After  incredible  hardships  and  sufiFering,  G.  W.  Mel- 
ville, the  chief  engineer,  who  was  in  charge  of  one 
of  the  boats,  with  nine  men,  reached,  on  September 


FOREWORD  XXV 

26,  a  Russian  village  on  the  Lena.  All  the  others 
perished,  some  being  lost  at  sea,  by  the  foundering  of 
the  boats,  while  others,  including  De  Long,  had  starved 
to  death  after  reaching  the  desolate  Siberian  coast. 

Three  years  later  some  Eskimos  found  washed 
ashore  on  the  southeast  coast  of  Greenland  several 
broken  biscuit  boxes  and  lists  of  stores,  which  are 
said  to  be  in  De  Long's  handwriting.  The  startling 
circumstance  that  these  relics  in  their  long  drift 
from  where  the  ship  sank  had  necessarily  passed  across 
or  very  near  to  the  Pole  aroused  great  speculation  as 
to  the  probable  currents  in  the  polar  area.  Nansen, 
who  had  already  made  the  first  crossing  of  Greenland's 
ice  cap,  argued  that  the  same  current  which  had  guided 
the  relics  on  their  long  journey  would  similarly  con- 
duct a  ship.  He  therefore  constructed  a  unique  craft, 
the  Fram,  so  designed  that  when  hugged  by  the  ice 
pack  she  would  not  be  crushed,  but  would  be  lifted 
up  and  rest  on  the  ice;  he  provisioned  the  vessel  for 
five  years  and  allowed  her  to  be  frozen  in  the  ice  near 
where  the  Jeannette  had  sunk,  78°  50'  N.,  134°  E.  (Sep- 
tember 25, 1893).  When  at  the  end  of  eighteen  months 
the  ship  had  approached  314  miles  nearer  to  the  Pole, 
Nansen  and  one  companion,  Johansen,  with  kayaks, 
dogs,  sledges,  and  three  months'  provisions,  deliberately 
left  the  ship  and  plunged  northward  toward  the  Pole, 
March  14,  1895.  In  twenty-three  days  the  two  men 
had  overcome  one-third  of  the  distance  to  the  Pole, 
reaching  86°  12'.  To  continue  onward  would  have 
meant  certain  death,  so  they  turned  back.  When  their 
watches  ran  down  Providence  guided  them,  and  the 
marvelous  physique  of  both  sustained  them  through 


xxvi  FOREWORD 

fog  and  storm  and  threatened  starvation  until  they 
reached  Franz  Josef  Land,  late  in  August.  There 
they  built  a  hut  of  stones  and  killed  bears  for  meat  for 
the  winter.  In  May,  1896,  they  resumed  their  south- 
ward journey,  when  fortunately  they  met  the  English- 
man Jackson,  who  was  exploring  the  Archipelago. 

Meanwhile  the  Fram,  after  Nansen  left  her,  con- 
tinued her  tortuous  drifting  across  the  upper  world. 
Once  she  approached  as  near  as  85°  57'  to  the  Pole  — 
only  fifteen  miles  less  than  Nansen's  farthest.  At 
last,  in  August,  1896,  with  the  help  of  dynamite,  she 
was  freed  from  the  grip  of  the  ice  and  hurried  home, 
arriving  in  time  to  participate  in  the  welcome  of  Nan- 
sen,  who  had  landed  a  few  days  earlier. 

Franz  Josef  Land,  where  Nansen  was  rescued  by 
Jackson,  has  served  as  the  base  of  many  dashes  for 
the  Pole.  It  was  from  its  northernmost  point  that 
the  illustrious  young  member  of  the  royal  family  of 
Italy,  the  Duke  of  the  Abruzzi,  launched  the  party 
captained  by  Cagni  that  won  from  Nansen  for  the  Latin 
race  the  honor  of  the  farthest  north,  86°  34',  in  1901. 
From  Franz  Josef  Land  also  Andree,  with  two  com- 
panions, sailed  in  his  balloon  toward  the  Pole,  in  July, 
1897,  never  to  be  heard  from  again,  except  for  three 
message  buoys  dropped  in  the  sea  a  few  miles  from  the 
starting-point. 

This  land,  which  consists  of  numerous  islands,  had 
been  named  after  the  Emperor  of  Austria-Hungary 
by  Weyprecht  and  Payer,  leaders  of  the  Austrian- 
Hungarian  polar  expedition  of  1872-74,  who  discov- 
ered and  first  explored  the  Archipelago. 

The  Northeast  Passage  was  first  achieved  in  1878- 


FOREWORD  xxvii 

1879  by  Adolp  Erik  Nordenskjold.  Step  by  step  ener- 
getic explorers,  principally  Russian,  had  been  mapping 
the  arctic  coasts  of  Europe  and  Siberia  until  practi- 
cally all  the  headlands  and  islands  were  well  defined. 

Nordenskjold,  whose  name  was  already  renowned 
for  important  researches  in  Greenland,  Nova  Zembla, 
and  northern  Asia,  in  less  than  two  months  guided 
the  steam  whaler  Vega  from  Tromsoe,  Norway,  to  the 
most  easterly  peninsula  of  Asia.  But  when  barely 
more  than  100  miles  from  Bering  Strait,  intervening 
ice  blocked  his  hopes  of  passing  from  the  Atlantic  to 
the  Pacific  in  a  single  season  and  held  him  fast  for 
ten  months. 

No  resume  of  polar  exploration  is  complete  without 
mention  of  Wm.  Barents  (1594-96)  who,  for  the  Dutch 
of  Amsterdam,  made  three  attempts  to  accomplish 
the  Northeast  Passage  around  Nova  Zembla;  Wm. 
Baffin,  who  discovered  Baffin  Bay  and  Smith  Sound 
(1616);  Wm.  Scoresby,  Sr.,  who  reached  by  ship  81° 
30'  N.,  19'  E.  (1806),  a  record  till  Parry  eclipsed  it; 
Wm.  Scoresby,  Jr.,  who  changed  all  ideas  of  East 
Greenland  (1822)  and  made  valuable  scientific  obser- 
vations, and  the  German  North  Polar  expedition  of 
1869-70.  One  of  the  ships  of  the  latter  was  crushed  in 
the  ice  and  sank.  The  crew  escaped  to  an  ice  floe  on 
which  they  drifted  in  the  darkness  of  an  arctic  winter 
for  1300  miles  along  the  coast  of  Greenland  to  Fred- 
eriksthaal. 

The  preceding  brief  summary  gives  only  an  inade- 
quate conception  of  the  immense  treasures  of  money 
and  lives  expended  by  the  nations  to  explore  the  north- 
ern ice  world  and  to  attain  the  apex  of  the  earth. 


xxviii  FOREWOKD 

All  efforts  to  reach  the  Pole  had  failed,  notwithstand- 
ing the  unlimited  sacrifice  of  gold  and  energy  and  blood 
which  had  been  poured  out  without  stint  for  nearly 
four  centuries.  But  the  sacrifice  had  not  been  with- 
out compensation.  Those  who  had  ventured  their 
lives  in  the  contest  had  not  been  actuated  solely  by 
the  ambition  to  win  a  race  —  to  breast  the  tape  first  — 
but  to  contribute,  in  Sir  John  Franklin's  words,  "to 
the  extension  of  the  bounds  of  science."  The  scores  of 
expeditions,  in  addition  to  new  geographical  discov- 
eries, had  brought  back  a  wealth  of  information  about 
the  animals  and  vegetable  life,  the  winds  and  currents, 
deep  sea  temperatures,  soundings,  the  magnetism  of 
the  earth,  fossils  and  rock  specimens,  tidal  data,  etc., 
which  have  enriched  many  branches  of  science  and 
greatly  increased  the  sum  of  human  knowledge. 

A  brief  summer  excursion  to  Greenland  in  1886 
aroused  Robert  E.  Peary,  a  civil  engineer  in  the  United 
States  Navy,  to  an  interest  in  the  polar  problem. 
Peary  a  few  years  previously  had  been  graduated 
from  Bowdoin  College  second  in  his  class,  a  position 
which  means  unusual  mental  vigor  in  an  institution 
which  is  noted  for  the  fine  scholarship  and  intellect  of 
its  alumni.  He  realized  at  once  that  the  goal  which 
had  eluded  so  many  hundreds  of  ambitious  and  daunt- 
less men  could  be  won  only  by  a  new  method  of  attack. 

The  first  arctic  problem  with  which  Peary  grappled 
was  considered  at  that  time  in  importance  second  only 
to  the  conquest  of  the  Pole;  namely,  to  determine  the 
insularity  of  Greenland  and  the  extent  of  its  projec- 
tion northward.  At  the  very  beginning  of  his  first 
expedition  to  Greenland,  in  1891,  he  suffered  an  acci- 


FOREWORD  xxix 

dent  which  sorely  taxed  his  patience  as  well  as  his  body, 
and  which  is  mentioned  here  as  it  illustrates  the  grit 
and  stamina  of  his  moral  and  physical  make-up.  As 
his  ship,  the  Kite,  was  working  its  way  through  the  ice 
fields  ofJ  the  Greenland  shore,  a  cake  of  ice  became 
wedged  in  the  rudder,  causing  the  wheel  to  reverse. 
One  of  the  spokes  jammed  Peary's  leg  against  the 
casement,  making  it  impossible  to  extricate  himself 
until  both  bones  of  the  leg  were  broken.  The  party 
urged  him  to  return  to  the  United  States  for  the  win- 
ter and  to  resume  his  exploration  the  following  year. 
But  Peary  insisted  on  being  landed  as  originally  planned 
at  McCormick  Bay,  stating  that  the  money  of  his 
friends  had  been  invested  in  the  project  and  that  he 
must  "make  good"  to  them.  The  assiduous  nursing 
of  Mrs.  Peary,  aided  by  the  bracing  air,  so  speedily 
restored  his  strength  that  at  the  ensuing  Christmas 
festivities  which  he  arranged  for  the  Eskimos,  he  out- 
raced  on  snowshoes  all  the  natives  and  his  own  men ! 

In  the  following  May,  with  one  companion,  Astrup, 
he  ascended  to  the  summit  of  the  great  ice  cap  which 
covers  the  interior  of  Greenland,  5000  to  8000  feet  in 
elevation,  and  pushed  northward  for  500  miles  over  a 
region  where  the  foot  of  man  had  never  trod  before, 
in  temperatures  ranging  from  10°  to  50°  below  zero, 
to  Independence  Bay,  which  he  discovered  and  named, 
July  4,  1892.  Imagine  his  surprise  on  descending 
from  the  tableland  to  enter  a  little  valley  radiant  with 
gorgeous  flowers  and  alive  with  murmuring  bees,  where 
musk  oxen  were  lazily  browsing. 

This  sledding  journey,  which  he  duplicated  by  an- 
other equally  remarkable  crossing  of  the  ice  cap  three 


XXX  FOREWORD 

years  later,  defined  the  northern  extension  of  Greenland 
and  conclusively  proved  that  it  is  an  island  instead  of 
a  continent  extending  to  the  Pole.  In  boldness  of  con- 
ception and  brilliancy  of  results  these  two  crossings  of 
Greenland  are  unsurpassed  in  arctic  history.  The  mag- 
nitude of  Peary's  feat  is  better  appreciated  when  it  is 
recalled  that  Nansen's  historic  crossing  of  the  island  was 
below  the  Arctic  Circle,  1000  miles  south  of  Peary's 
latitude,  where  Greenland  is  some  250  miles  wide. 

Peary  now  turned  his  attention  to  the  Pole,  which 
lay  396  geographical  miles  farther  north  than  any  man 
had  penetrated  on  the  western  hemisphere.  To  get 
there  by  the  American  route  he  must  break  a  virgin 
trail  every  mile  north  from  Greely's  83°  24'.  No  one 
had  pioneered  so  great  a  distance  northward.  Markham 
and  others  had  attained  enduring  fame  by  advancing 
the  flag  considerably  less  than  100  miles.  Parry  had 
pioneered  150  miles,  and  Nansen  128  from  his  ship. 

His  experiences  in  Greenland  had  convinced  Peary, 
if  possible  more  firmly  than  before,  that  the  only 
way  of  surmounting  this  last  and  most  formidable 
barrier  was  to  adopt  the  manner  of  life,  the  food, 
the  snowhouses,  and  the  clothing  of  the  Eskimos,  who 
by  centuries  of  experience  had  learned  the  most  effect- 
ive method  of  combating  the  rigors  of  arctic  weather; 
to  utilize  the  game  of  the  northland,  the  arctic  reindeer, 
musk  ox,  etc.,  which  his  explorations  had  proved 
comparatively  abundant,  thus  with  fresh  meat  keeping 
his  men  fit  and  good-tempered  through  the  depress- 
ing winter  night;  and  lastly  to  train  the  Eskimo  to 
become  his  sledging  crew. 

In  his  first  north  polar  expedition,  which  lasted  for 


FOREWORD  xxxi 

four  years,  1898-1902,  Peary  failed  to  get  nearer  than 
343  miles  to  tlie  Pole.  Each  successive  year  dense 
packs  of  ice  blocked  the  passage  to  the  polar  ocean, 
compelling  him  to  make  his  base  approximately  700 
miles  from  the  Pole,  or  200  miles  south  of  the  head- 
quarters of  Nares,  too  great  a  distance  from  the  Pole 
to  be  overcome  in  one  short  season.  During  this 
trying  period,  by  sledging  feats  which  in  distance  and 
physical  obstacles  overcome  exceeded  the  extraordinary 
records  made  in  Greenland,  he  explored  and  mapped 
hundreds  of  miles  of  coast  line  of  Greenland  and  of  the 
islands  west  and  north  of  Greenland. 

On  the  next  attempt,  Peary  insured  reaching  the 
polar  ocean  by  designing  and  constructing  the  Roose- 
velt, whose  resistless  frame  crushed  its  way  to  the 
desired  haven  on  the  shores  of  the  polar  sea.  From 
here  he  made  that  wonderful  march  of  1906  to  87°  6', 
a  new  world's  record.  Winds  of  unusual  fury,  by  open- 
ing big  leads,  robbed  him  of  the  Pole  and  nearly  of 
his  life. 

The  story  of  the  last  Peary  expedition,  which 
resulted  in  the  discovery  of  the  Pole  and  of  the  deep 
ocean  surrounding  it,  is  told  in  the  present  volume  by 
Commander  Peary.  The  396  miles  from  Greely's 
farthest  had  been  vanquished  as  follows:  1900,  30 
miles;  1902,  23  miles;  1906,  169  miles;  1909,  174  miles. 

No  better  proof  of  the  minute  care  with  which 
every  campaign  was  prearranged  can  be  given  than 
the  fact  that,  though  Peary  has  taken  hundreds  of 
men  north  with  him  on  his  various  expeditions,  he 
has  brought  them  all  back,  and  in  good  health,  with 
the  exception  of  two,  who  lost  their  lives  in  accidents 


xxxii  FOREWORD 

for  which  the  leader  was  in  no  wise  responsible.  What 
a  contrast  this  record  is  to  the  long  list  of  fatalities 
from  disease,  frost,  shipwreck,  and  starvation  which 
in  the  popular  mind  has  made  the  word  arctic  synony- 
mous with  tragedy  and  death. 

Thus  Robert  E.  Peary  has  crowned  a  life  devoted  to 
the  exploration  of  the  icy  north  and  to  the  advance- 
ment of  science  by  the  hard- won  discovery  of  the  North 
Pole.  The  prize  of  four  centuries  of  striving  yielded 
at  last  to  the  most  persistent  and  scientific  attack  ever 
waged  against  it.  Peary's  success  was  made  possible 
by  long  experience,  which  gave  him  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome,  and  by  an 
unusual  combination  of  mental  and  physical  power  — 
a  resourcefulness  which  enabled  him  to  find  a  way  to 
surmount  all  obstacles,  a  tenacity  and  courage  which 
knew  no  defeat,  and  a  physical  endowment  such  as 
nature  gives  to  few  men. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  the  glory  of  Peary's 
achievement  belongs  to  the  world  and  is  shared  by 
all  mankind.  But  we,  his  fellow-countrymen,  who 
have  known  how  he  has  struggled  these  many  years 
against  discouragement  and  scoffing  and  how  he  has 
persevered  under  financial  burdens  that  would  have 
crushed  less  stalwart  shoulders,  specially  rejoice  that 
he  has  "made  good  at  last,"  and  that  an  American  has 
become  the  peer  of  Hudson,  Magellan,  and  Columbus. 

Gilbert  H.  Grosvenor. 
National  Geographic  Society, 
Washington,  D.  C,  U,  S.  A. 
August  30,  1910. 


STELLAR  PROJECTION,   SHOWING  THE  RELATION  OF  THE  POLAR  SEA  TO  THE 

VARIOUS  CONTINENTS 


THE  NORTH  POLE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   PLAN 

IT  may  not  be  inapt  to  liken  the  attainment  of 
the  North  Pole  to  the  winning  of  a  game  of 
chess,  in  which  all  the  various  moves  leading  to  a 
favorable  conclusion  had  been  planned  in  advance, 
long  before  the  actual  game  began.  It  was  an  old 
game  for  me  —  a  game  which  I  had  been  playing  for 
twenty-three  years,  with  varying  fortunes.  Always, 
it  is  true,  I  had  been  beaten,  but  with  every  defeat 
came  fresh  knowledge  of  the  game,  its  intricacies,  its 
difficulties,  its  subtleties,  and  with  every  fresh  attempt 
success  came  a  trifle  nearer;  what  had  before  appeared 
either  impossible,  or,  at  the  best,  extremely  dubious, 
began  to  take  on  an  aspect  of  possibility,  and,  at  last, 
even  of  probability.  Every  defeat  was  analyzed  as 
to  its  causes  in  all  their  bearings,  until  it  became  pos- 
sible to  believe  that  those  causes  could  in  future  be 
guarded  against  and  that,  with  a  fair  amount  of  good 
fortune,  the  losing  game  of  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century 
could  be  turned  into  one  final,  complete  success. 

It  is  true  that  with  this  conclusion  many  well  in- 
formed and  intelligent  persons  saw  fit  to  diflPer.  But 
many  others  shared  my  views  and  gave  without  stint 
their  sympathy  and  their  help,  and  now,  in  the  end, 

1 


2  THE   NORTH   POLE 

one  of  my  greatest  unalloyed  pleasures  is  to  know 
that  their  confidence,  subjected  as  it  was  to  many 
trials,  was  not  misplaced,  that  their  trust,  their  belief 
in  me  and  in  the  mission  to  which  the  best  years  of 
my  life  have  been  given,  have  been  abundantly  jus- 
tified. 

But  while  it  is  true  that  so  far  as  plan  and  method 
are  concerned  the  discovery  of  the  North  Pole  may 
fairly  be  likened  to  a  game  of  chess,  there  is,  of  course, 
this  obvious  diflference:  in  chess,  brains  are  matched 
against  brains.  In  the  quest  of  the  Pole  it  was  a 
struggle  of  human  brains  and  persistence  against 
the  blind,  brute  forces  of  the  elements  of  primeval 
matter,  acting  often  under  laws  and  impulses  almost 
unknown  or  but  little  understood  by  us,  and  thus 
many  times  seemingly  capricious,  freaky,  not  ta  be 
foretold  with  any  degree  of  certainty.  For  this  reason, 
while  it  was  possible  to  plan,  before  the  hour  of  sailing 
from  New  York,  the  principal  moves  of  the  attack 
upon  the  frozen  North,  it  was  not  possible  to  antici- 
pate all  of  the  moves  of  the  adversary.  Had  this  been 
possible,  my  expedition  of  1905-1906,  which  estab- 
lished the  then  "farthest  north"  record  of  87°  6'. 
would  have  reached  the  Pole.  But  everybody  familiar 
with  the  records  of  that  expedition  knows  that  its 
complete  success  was  frustrated  by  one  of  those  unfore- 
seetn  moves  of  our  great  adversary  —  in  that  a  season 
of  unusually  violent  and  continued  winds  disrupted  the 
polar  pack,  separating  me  from  my  supporting  parties, 
with  insufiicient  supplies,  so  that,  when  almost  within 
striking  distance  of  the  goal,  it  was  necessary  to  turn., 
back  because  of  the   imminent   peril   of   starvation. 


THE   PLAN  3 

When  victory  seemed  at  last  almost  within  reach,  I 
was  blocked  by  a  move  which  could  not  possibly  have 
been  foreseen,  and  which,  when  I  encountered  it,  I 
was  helpless  to  meet.  And,  as  is  well  known,  I  and 
those  with  me  were  not  only  checkmated  but  very 
nearly  lost  our  lives  as  well. 

But  all  that  is  now  as  a  tale  that  is  told.  This  time 
it  is  a  different  and  perhaps  a  more  inspiring  story, 
though  the  records  of  gallant  defeat  are  not  without 
their  inspiration.  And  the  point  which  it  seems  fit 
to  make  in  the  beginning  is  that  success  crowned  the 
efforts  of  years  because  strength  came  from  repeated 
defeats,  wisdom  from  earlier  error,  experience  from 
inexperience,  and  determination  from  them  all. 

Perhaps,  in  view  of  the  striking  manner  in  which 
the  final  event  bore  out  the  prophecies  that  I  had  made, 
it  may  be  of  interest  to  compare  in  some  detail  the 
plan  of  campaign  that  was  announced,  over  two  months 
before  the  Roosevelt  sailed  from  New  York  on  her  final 
voyage  to  the  North,  with  the  manner  in  which  that 
campaign  was  actually  executed. 

Early  in  May,  1908,  in  a  published  statement  I 
sketched  the  following  plan: 

"I  shall  use  the  same  ship,  the  Roosevelt;  shall  leave 
New  York  early  in  July;  shall  follow  the  same  route 
north,  via  Sydney,  C.  B.,  Strait  of  Belle  Isle,  Davis 
Strait,  Baffin  Bay,  and  Smith  Sound;  shall  use  the 
same  methods,  equipments,  and  supplies;  shall  have 
a  minimum  party  of  white  men,  supplemented  with 
Eskimos;  shall  take  on  these  Eskimos  and  dogs  in 
the  Whale  Sound  region  as  before,  and  shall  endeavor 
to  force  my  ship  to  the  same  or  similar  winter  quar- 


4  THE   NORTH   POLE 

ters  on  the  north  shore  of  Grant  Land  as  in  the  winter 
of  1905-1906. 

"The  sledge  march  will  begin  as  before  in  Febru- 
ary, but  my  route  will  be  modified  as  follows:  First, 
I  shall  follow  the  north  coast  of  Grant  Land  as  far 
west  as  Cape  Columbia,  and  possibly  beyond,  instead 
of  leaving  this  land  at  Point  Moss  as  I  did  before. 

"Second,  leaving  the  land,  my  course  will  be  more 
west  of  north  than  before,  in  order  to  counteract  or 
allow  for  the  easterly  set  of  the  ice  between  the  north 
coast  of  Grant  Land  and  the  Pole,  discovered  on  my 
last  expedition.  Another  essential  modification  will 
be  a  more  rigid  massing  of  my  sledge  divisions  en  route, 
in  order  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  a  portion  of  the 
party  being  separated  from  the  rest  by  the  movement 
of  the  ice,  with  insufficient  supplies  for  a  protracted 
advance,  as  happened  on  the  last  expedition. 

"There  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  this  'big  lead' 
(a  lane  of  open  water),  encountered  in  both  my 
upward  and  return  marches  in  my  last  expedition,  is 
an  essentially  permanent  feature  of  this  part  of  the 
Arctic  Ocean.  I  have  little  doubt  of  my  ability  to 
make  this  'lead,'  instead  of  the  north  coast  of  Grant 
Land,  my  point  of  departure  with  fully  loaded  sledges. 
If  this  is  done  it  will  shorten  the  route  to  the  Pole  by 
nearly  one  hundred  miles  and  distinctly  simplify  the 
proposition. 

"On  the  return  march  in  the  next  expedition  I  shall 
probably  do  voluntarily  what  I  did  involuntarily  last 
time;  that  is,  retreat  upon  the  north  coast  of  Green- 
land (a  course  diagonally  loith  the  set  of  the  ice)  instead 
of  attempting  to  come  back  to  the  north  coast  of  Grant 


THE   PLAN  5 

Land  (diagonally  against  the  set  of  the  ice).  An 
adjunct  of  this  program  will  probably  be  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  depot  well  up  the  north  coast  of  Green- 
land by  the  first  of  the  supporting  parties  returning 
to  the  ship." 

The  main  features  of  this  program  I  summarized 
as  follows: 

"First,  the  utilization  of  the  Smith  Sound  or  'Amer- 
ican' route.  This  must  be  accepted  to-day  as  the 
best  of  all  possible  routes  for  a  determined,  aggressive 
attack  upon  the  Pole.  Its  advantages  are  a  land  base 
one  hundred  miles  nearer  the  Pole  than  is  to  be  found 
at  any  other  point  of  the  entire  periphery  of  the  Arctic 
Ocean,  a  long  stretch  of  coast  line  upon  which  to  return, 
and  a  safe  and  (to  me)  well-known  line  of  retreat 
independent  of  assistance,  in  the  event  of  any  mishap 
to  the  ship. 

"Second,  the  selection  of  a  winter  base  which  com- 
mands a  wider  range  of  the  central  polar  sea  and  its 
surrounding  coasts  than  any  other  possible  base  in 
the  Arctic  regions.  Cape  Sheridan  is  practically  equi- 
distant from  Crocker  Land,  from  the  remaining 
unknown  portion  of  the  northeast  coast  of  Greenland, 
and  from  my  'Nearest  the  Pole'  of  1906. 

"Third,  the  use  of  sledges  and  Eskimo  dogs.  Man 
and  the  Eskimo  dog  are  the  only  two  machines  capa- 
ble of  such  adjustment  as  to  meet  the  wide  demands 
and  contingencies  of  Arctic  travel.  Airships,  motor 
cars,  trained  polar  bears,  etc.,  are  all  premature, 
except  as  a  means  of  attracting  public  attention. 

"Fourth,  the  use  of  the  hyperborean  aborigine  (the 
Whale  Sound  Eskimo)  for  the  rank  and  file  of  the  sledge 


6  THE   NORTH   POLE 

party.  It  seems  unnecessary  to  enlarge  upon  the  fact 
that  the  men  whose  heritage  is  life  and  work  in  that 
very  region  must  present  the  best  obtainable  material 
for  the  personnel  of  a  serious  Arctic  party.  This  is 
my  program.  The  object  of  the  work  is  the  clear- 
ing up,  or  at  least  the  fixing  in  their  general  propor- 
tions, of  the  remaining  large  problems  in  the  American 
segment  of  the  polar  regions  and  the  securing  for  the 
United  States  of  that  great  world  trophy  which  has 
been  the  object  of  effort  and  emulation  among  practi- 
cally all  the  civilized  nations  of  the  world  for  the  last 
three  centuries." 

The  details  of  this  plan  have  been  here  set  forth 
so  explicitly  because  the  faithfulness  with  which 
they  were  carried  out  constitutes  a  record  which  is 
perhaps  unique  in  the  annals  of  Arctic  exploration. 
Compare  this  scheme,  if  you  please,  with  the  manner 
of  its  execution.  As  had  been  planned,  the  expedi- 
tion sailed  from  New  York  early  in  July,  1908,  July  6, 
to  be  exact.  It  sailed  from  Sydney  July  17,  from  Etah 
August  18,  and  arrived  at  Cape  Sheridan,  the  winter 
quarters  of  the  Roosevelt,  on  September  5,  within  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  of  the  same  time  it  had  arrived  at 
the  same  spot  three  years  before.  The  winter  was 
occupied  in  hunting,  in  various  side  journeys,  in 
making  our  sledging  equipment,  and  in  moving  sup- 
plies from  the  Roosevelt  along  the  northern  shore  of 
Grant  Land  to  Cape  Columbia,  which  was  to  be  our 
point  of  departure  from  the  land  on  our  drive  for  the 
Pole  itself. 

The  sledge  divisions  left  the  Roosevelt  from  February 
15  to  22,  1909,  rendezvoused  at  Cape  Columbia,  and 


THE   PLAN  7 

on  March  1  the  expedition  left  Cape  Columbia,  head- 
ing across  the  Polar  Ocean  for  the  Pole.  The  84th 
parallel  was  crossed  on  March  18,  the  86th  on  March 
23,  the  Italian  record  was  passed  the  next  day,  the  88th 
parallel  on  April  2,  the  89th  on  April  4,  and  the  North 
Pole  was  reached  on  April  6  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  I  spent  thirty  hours  at  the  Pole  with 
Matt  Henson,  Ootah,  the  faithful  Eskimo  who  had 
gone  with  me  in  1906  to  87°  6',  the  then  "farthest 
north,"  and  three  other  Eskimos  who  had  also  been 
with  me  on  previous  expeditions.  The  six  of  us  left 
the  much  desired  "ninety  north"  on  April  7  on  the 
return  journey  and  reached  land  at  Cape  Columbia 
again  on  April  23. 

It  will  be  noted  that  while  the  journey  from  Cape 
Columbia  to  the  Pole  consumed  thirty-seven  days, 
(though  only  twenty-seven  marches)  we  returned  from 
the  Pole  to  Cape  Columbia  in  only  sixteen  days.  The 
extraordinary  speed  of  the  return  journey  is  to  be 
accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  we  merely  had  to  retrace 
our  old  trail  instead  of  making  a  new  one,  and  because 
we  were  fortunate  in  encountering  no  delays.  Excel- 
lent conditions  of  ice  and  weather  also  contributed, 
not  to  mention  the  fact  that  the  exhilaration  of  suc- 
cess lent  wings  to  our  sorely  battered  feet.  But  Ootah, 
the  Eskimo,  had  his  own  explanation.  Said  he:  "The 
devil  is  asleep  or  having  trouble  with  his  wife,  or  we 
should  never  have  come  back  so  easily." 

It  will  be  noted  in  this  comparison,  that  practically 
the  only  feature  of  the  plan  from  which  essential 
deviation  was  made  was  in  returning  to  Cape  Columbia 
on  the  coast  of  Grant  Land  instead  of  further  east- 


8  THE   NORTH   POLE 

ward  to  the  northern  coast  of  Greenland  as  I  had  done 
in  1906.  This  change  was  made  for  excellent  reasons, 
which  will  be  made  clear  in  their  proper  place.  Upon 
this  record  there  is  only  one  shadow  —  a  tragic  one 
indeed.  I  refer,  of  course,  to  the  lamentable  death 
of  Prof.  Ross  G.  Marvin,  who  was  drowned  on  April 
10,  four  days  after  the  Pole  had  been  reached,  forty- 
five  miles  north  of  Cape  Columbia,  while  returning 
from  86°  38'  north,  in  command  of  one  of  the  support- 
ing parties.  With  this  sad  exception,  the  history 
of  the  expedition  is  flawless.  We  returned  as  we 
went,  in  our  own  ship,  battered  but  unharmed,  in 
excellent  health  and  with  a  record  of  complete 
success. 

There  is  a  lesson  in  all  this  —  a  lesson  so  obvious 
that  it  is  perhaps  superfluous  to  point  it  out.  The 
plan,  so  carefully  made  and  executed  with  such  faith- 
fulness to  detail,  was  composed  of  a  number  of  elements, 
the  absence  of  any  one  of  which  might  have  been  fatal 
to  success.  We  could  scarcely  have  succeeded  with- 
out the  help  of  our  faithful  Eskimos;  nor  even  with 
them,  had  it  not  been  for  our  knowledge  of  their 
capacities  for  work  and  endurance,  and  for  the  confi- 
dence which  years  of  acquaintance  had  taught  them 
to  repose  in  me.  We  could  certainly  not  have  suc- 
ceeded without  the  Eskimo  dogs  which  furnished  the 
traction  power  for  our  sledges,  and  so  enabled  us  to 
carry  our  supplies  where  no  other  power  on  earth 
could  have  moved  them  with  the  requisite  speed  and 
certainty.  It  may  be  that  we  could  not  have  suc- 
ceeded without  the  improved  form  of  sledge  which  I 
was  able  to  construct  and  which,  combining  in  its 


THE   PLAN  9 

construction,  strength,  lightness,  and  ease  of  trac- 
tion, made  the  heavy  task  of  the  dogs  far  easier 
than  it  would  otherwise  have  been.  It  may  even  be 
that  we  should  have  failed  had  it  not  been  for  so  simple 
a  thing  as  an  improved  form  of  water  boiler  which  I 
was  fortunate  enough  to  have  hit  upon.  By  its  aid 
we  were  able  to  melt  ice  and  make  tea  in  ten  minutes. 
On  our  previous  journeys  this  process  had  taken  an 
hour.  Tea  is  an  imperative  necessity  on  such  a  driv- 
ing journey,  and  this  little  invention  saved  one  and 
one-half  hours  in  each  day  while  we  were  struggling 
toward  the  Pole  on  that  journey  when  time  was  the 
very  essence  of  success. 

Success  crowned  the  work,  it  is  true,  but,  for  all 
that,  it  is  a  genuine  pleasure  to  reflect  that  even  had 
we  failed,  I  should  have  had  nothing  to  reproach 
myself  with  in  the  way  of  neglect.  Every  possible 
contingency  that  years  of  experience  had  taught  me 
to  expect  was  provided  for,  every  weak  spot  guarded, 
every  precaution  taken.  I  had  spent  a  quarter  of  a 
century  playing  the  Arctic  game.  I  was  fifty-three 
years  old,  an  age  beyond  which,  perhaps,  with  the  one 
exception  of  Sir  John  Franklin,  no  man  had  ever 
attempted  to  prosecute  work  in  the  Arctic  regions. 
I  was  a  little  past  the  zenith  of  my  strength,  a  little 
lacking,  perhaps,  in  the  exuberant  elasticity  and  elan 
of  more  youthful  years,  a  little  past  the  time  when  most 
men  begin  to  leave  the  strenuous  things  to  the  younger 
generation;  but  these  drawbacks  were  fully  balanced 
perhaps  by  a  trained  and  hardened  endurance,  a  per- 
fect knowledge  of  myself,  and  of  how  to  conserve  my 
strength.     I  knew  it  was  my  last  game  upon  the  great 


10  THENORTHPOLE 

Arctic  chess-board.    It  was  win  this  time  or  be  for- 
ever defeated. 

The  lure  of  the  North !  It  is  a  strange  and  a  power- 
ful thing.  More  than  once  I  have  come  back  from 
the  great  frozen  spaces,  battered  and  worn  and  baffled, 
sometimes  maimed,  telling  myself  that  I  had  made  my 
last  journey  thither,  eager  for  the  society  of  my  kind, 
the  comforts  of  civilization  and  the  peace  and  serenity 
of  home.  But  somehow,  it  was  never  many  months 
before  the  old  restless  feeling  came  over  me.  Civili- 
zation began  to  lose  its  zest  for  me.  I  began  to  long 
for  the  great  white  desolation,  the  battles  with  the  ice 
and  the  gales,  the  long,  long  arctic  night,  the  long, 
long  arctic  day,  the  handful  of  odd  but  faithful  Eskimos 
who  had  been  my  friends  for  years,  the  silence  and 
the  vastness  of  the  great,  white  lonely  North.  And 
back  I  went  accordingly,  time  after  time,  until,  at 
last,  my  dream  of  years  came  true. 


CHAPTER  II 


PEEPAEATIONS 


A  GREAT  many  persons  have  asked  when  I 
first  conceived  the  idea  of  trying  to  reach 
the  North  Pole.  That  question  is  hard  to 
answer.  It  is  impossible  to  point  to  any  day  or  month 
and  to  say,  "Then  the  idea  first  came  to  me."  The 
North  Pole  dream  was  a  gradual  and  almost  invol- 
untary evolution  from  earlier  work  in  which  it  had  no 
part.  My  interest  in  arctic  work  dates  back  to  1885, 
when  as  a  young  man  my  imagination  was  stirred  by 
reading  accounts  of  explorations  by  Nordenskjold  in 
the  interior  of  Greenland.  These  studies  took  full 
possession  of  my  mind  and  led  to  my  undertaking, 
entirely  alone,  a  summer  trip  to  Greenland  in  the 
following  year.  Somewhere  in  my  subconscious  self, 
even  so  long  ago  as  that,  there  may  have  been  gradu- 
ally dawning  a  hope  that  I  might  some  day  reach  the 
Pole  itself.  Certain  it  is,  the  lure  of  the  North,  the 
"arctic  fever,"  as  it  has  been  called,  entered  my 
veins  then,  and  I  came  to  have  a  feeling  of  fatality, 
a  feeling  that  the  reason  and  intent  of  my  existence 
was  the  solution  of  the  mystery  of  the  frozen  fast- 
nesses of  the  Arctic. 

But  the  actual  naming  of  the  Pole  as  the  object  of 
an  expedition  did  not  materialize  until  1898,  when  the 
first  expedition  of  the  Peary  Arctic  Club  went  north 

11 


12  THENORTHPOLE 

with  the  avowed  intention  of  reaching  ninety  north 
—  if  it  were  possible.  Since  then  I  have  made  six  dif- 
ferent attempts,  in  six  different  years,  to  reach  the 
coveted  point.  The  sledging  season,  when  such  a 
"dash"  is  possible,  extends  from  about  the  middle  of 
February  until  the  middle  of  June.  Before  the  middle  of 
February  there  is  not  sufficient  light,  and  after  the  mid- 
dle of  June  there  is  likely  to  be  too  much  open  water. 

During  these  six  former  attempts  made  by  me  to 
win  the  prize,  the  successive  latitudes  of  83°  52',  84° 
17',  and  87°  6'  were  attained,  the  last  giving  back  to 
the  United  States  the  record  of  "farthest  north,"  which 
had  for  a  time  been  wrested  from  it  by  Nansen,  and 
from  him  in  turn  by  the  Duke  of  the  Abruzzi. 

In  writing  the  story  of  this  last  and  successful 
expedition,  it  is  necessary  to  go  back  to  my  return 
from  the  former  expedition  of  1905-6.  Before  the 
Roosevelt  entered  port,  and  before  I  reached  New 
York,  I  was  planning  for  another  journey  into  the 
North,  which,  if  I  could  obtain  the  essential  funds  — 
and  retained  my  health  —  I  intended  to  get  under 
way  as  soon  as  possible.  It  is  a  principle  in  physics 
that  a  ponderable  body  moves  along  the  line  of  least 
resistance;  but  that  principle  does  not  seem  to  apply 
to  the  will  of  man.  Every  obstacle  which  has  ever 
been  placed  in  my  way,  whether  physical  or  mental, 
whether  an  open  "lead"  or  the  opposition  of  human 
circumstances,  has  ultimately  acted  as  a  spur  to  the 
determination  to  accomplish  the  fixed  purpose  of  my 
life — if  I  lived  long  enough. 

On  my  return  in  1906,  great  encouragement  was 
received  from  Mr.  Jesup,  the  president  of  the  Peary 


PREPARATIONS  13 

Arctic  Club,  who  had  contributed  so  generously  to 
my  former  expeditions,  and  in  whose  honor  I  had  named 
the  northernmost  point  of  land  in  the  world,  lati- 
tude 83°  39',  Cape  Morris  K.  Jesup.  He  said,  in  so 
many  words,  that  he  would  "see  me  through"  on 
another  journey  north.  His  promise  meant  that  I 
should  not  have  to  beg  all  the  money  in  small  sums 
from  a  more  or  less  reluctant  world. 

The  winter  of  1906-7  and  the  spring  of  1907  were 
devoted  to  presenting  to  the  world  the  results  of  the 
previous  undertaking,  and  to  the  work  of  interesting 
friends  as  far  as  possible  in  another  expedition.  We 
had  the  ship,  which  had  cost  about  $100,000  in  1905; 
but  $75,000  more  was  needed  for  new  boilers  and 
other  changes,  for  equipment  and  for  operating  ex- 
penses. While  the  bulk  of  the  necessary  funds  was 
furnished  by  the  members  and  friends  of  the  Peary 
Arctic  Club,  a  very  considerable  amount  came  from 
all  parts  of  the  country  in  contributions  ranging  from 
$100  to  $5  and  even  $1.  These  donations  were  not 
less  appreciated  than  the  big  ones,  because  they 
showed  the  friendliness  and  the  interest  of  the  givers, 
and  demonstrated  to  me  the  general  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  while  the  expedition  was  financed 
by  private  individuals,  it  was  in  spirit  a  national 
affair. 

At  last  the  funds,  actual  and  promised,  were  in 
such  amount  as  to  authorize  our  contracting  for  new 
boilers  for  the  Roosevelt,  and  ordering  certain  modi- 
fications in  her  structure  which  would  fit  her  more 
effectively  for  another  voyage:  such  as  enlarging  the 
quarters  forward  for  the  crew,  adding  a  lug  sail  to 


14  THENORTHPOLE 

the  foremast,  and  changing  the  interior  arrangements 
somewhat.  The  general  features  of  the  ship  had  al- 
ready proved  themselves  so  well  adapted  for  the  pur- 
pose for  which  she  was  intended  that  no  alteration 
in  them  was  required. 

Experience  had  taught  me  how  to  figure  on  delays 
in  the  North;  but  the  exasperating  delays  of  ship 
contractors  at  home  had  not  yet  entered  into  my 
scheme  of  reckoning.  Contracts  for  this  work  on 
the  Roosevelt  were  signed  in  the  winter,  and  called 
for  the  completion  of  the  ship  by  July  1,  1907.  Re- 
peated oral  promises  were  added  to  contractual  agree- 
ments that  the  work  should  certainly  be  done  on  that 
date;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  new  boilers  were 
not  completed  and  installed  until  September,  thus 
absolutely  negativing  any  possibility  of  going  north  in 
the  summer  of  1907. 

The  failure  of  the  contractors  to  live  up  to  their 
word,  with  the  consequent  delay  of  a  year,  was  a  serious 
blow  to  me.  It  meant  that  I  must  attack  the  problem 
one  year  older;  it  placed  the  initiation  of  the  expe- 
dition further  in  the  future,  with  all  the  possible  con- 
tingencies that  might  occur  within  a  year;  and  it  meant 
the  bitterness  of  hope  deferred. 

On  the  day  when  it  became  lamentably  clear  that 
I  positively  could  not  sail  north  that  year,  I  felt  much 
as  I  had  felt  when  I  had  been  obliged  to  turn  back 
from  87°  6',  with  only  the  empty  bauble  "farthest 
north,"  instead  of  the  great  prize  which  I  had  almost 
strained  my  life  out  to  achieve.  Fortunately  I  did  not 
know  that  Fate  was  even  then  clenching  her  fist  for 
yet  another  and  more  crushing  blow. 


PREPARATIONS  15 

While  trying  to  possess  my  soul  in  patience  despite 
the  unjustified  delay,  there  came  the  heaviest  calamity 
encountered  in  all  my  arctic  work  —  the  death  of  my 
friend,  Morris  K.  Jesup.  Without  his  promised  help 
the  future  expedition  seemed  impossible.  It  may  be 
said  with  perfect  truth  that  to  him,  more  than  to  any 
other  one  man,  had  been  due  the  inception  and  the 
continuance  of  the  Peary  Arctic  Club,  and  the  success 
of  the  work  thus  far.  In  him  we  lost  not  only  a  man 
who  was  financially  a  tower  of  strength  in  the  work, 
but  I  lost  an  intimate  personal  friend  in  whom  I  had 
absolute  trust.  For  a  time  it  seemed  as  if  this  were 
the  end  of  everything;  that  all  the  effort  and  money 
put  into  the  project  had  been  wasted.  Mr.  Jesup's 
death,  added  to  the  delay  caused  by  the  default  of 
the  contractors,  seemed  at  first  an  absolutely  para- 
lyzing defeat. 

Nor  was  it  much  help  that  there  was  no  lack  of 
well-meaning  persons  who  were  willing  to  assure  me 
that  the  year's  delay  and  Mr.  Jesup's  death  were 
warnings  indicating  that  I  should  never  find  the 
Pole. 

Yet,  when  I  gathered  myself  together  and  faced 
the  situation  squarely,  I  realized  that  the  project 
was  something  too  big  to  die;  that  it  never,  in  the 
great  scheme  of  things,  would  be  allowed  to  fall  through. 
This  feeling  carried  me  past  many  a  dead  center  of 
fatigue  and  utter  ignorance  as  to  where  the  rest  of  the 
money  for  the  expedition  was  to  be  obtained.  The  end 
of  the  winter  and  the  beginning  of  the  spring  of  1908 
were  marked  by  more  than  one  blue  day  for  every- 
body concerned  in  the  success  of  the  expedition. 


16  THENORTHPOLE 

Repairs  and  changes  in  the  Roosevelt  had  exhausted 
all  the  funds  in  the  Club's  treasury.  We  still  needed 
the  money  for  purchase  of  supplies  and  equipment, 
pay  of  crew,  and  running  expenses.  Mr.  Jesup  was 
gone;  the  country  had  not  recovered  from  the  finan- 
cial crash  of  the  previous  fall;  every  one  was  poor. 

Then  from  this  lowest  ebb  the  tide  turned.  Mrs, 
Jesup,  in  the  midst  of  her  distracting  grief,  sent  a 
munificent  check  which  enabled  us  to  order  essential 
items  of  special  supplies  and  equipment  which  re- 
quired time  for  preparation. 

General  Thomas  H.  Hubbard  accepted  the  presi- 
dency of  the  Club,  and  added  a  second  large  check  to 
his  already  generous  contribution.  Henry  Parish, 
Anton  A.  Raven,  Herbert  L.  Bridgman  —  the  "Old 
Guard"  of  the  Club  —  who  had  stood  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  Mr.  Jesup  from  the  inception  of  the 
organization,  stood  firm  now  to  keep  the  organization 
of  the  Club  intact;  other  men  came  forward,  and  the 
crisis  was  past.  But  the  money  still  came  hard.  It 
was  the  subject  of  my  every  waking  thought;  and  even 
in  sleep  it  would  not  let  me  rest,  but  followed  with 
mocking  and  elusive  dreams.  It  was  a  dogged,  dull, 
desperate  time,  with  the  hopes  of  my  whole  life  rising 
and  falling  day  by  day. 

Then  came  an  unexpected  rift  in  the  clouds,  the 
receipt  of  a  very  friendly  letter  from  Mr.  Zenas  Crane, 
the  great  paper  manufacturer,  of  Massachusetts,  who 
had  contributed  to  a  previous  expedition,  but  whom  I 
had  never  met.  Mr.  Crane  wrote  that  he  was  deeply 
interested;  that  the  project  was  one  which  should  have 
the  support  of  every  one  who  cared  for  big  things  and 


^ 

'  t  Js 

■a^j^rfl^^l 

h^ 

^i 

t^'HK^'  >-<«tari* 

IoAh^>.~S 

BEB^fl^^Kr- 

#«!«T^'^ 

|«i'«-"rrjr^^^^^ 

loM^jBi^^^P^^, 

■   •--■;. 't  .;,:...  t 

^■^^ 

K"  '  ^-^^ 

^^T;  ,,jHPIH 

Pj>^^^gk 

■i^f  .'f  1  iHp'— 9 

■  tT^^--^? 

^^ 

rl~j^i^^ 

I 

i 

ss* 

It"  -'., 

PROFEHSOH   KOSH  G.   1IAH\1N 
ASSISTANT 


GEORGE   HORUl',  ASSISTANT 


DOXALD    l;.    MACMILLAN 
ASSISTANT 


DR.   J.    \V.   GOUDSELL,   SURGEON 


PREPARATIONS  17 

for  the  prestige  of  the  country,  and  he  asked  me  to 
come  to  see  him,  if  I  could  make  it  convenient.  I 
could.  I  did.  He  gave  a  check  for  $10,000  and 
promised  to  give  more  if  it  should  be  required.  The 
promise  was  kept,  and  a  little  later  he  accepted  the 
vice-presidency  of  the  Club.  What  this  $10,000 
meant  to  me  at  that  time  would  need  the  pen  of 
Shakespere  to  make  entirely  clear. 

From  this  time  on  the  funds  came  in  slowly  but 
steadily,  to  an  amount  that,  combined  with  rigid 
economy  and  thorough  knowledge  of  what  was  and 
what  was  not  needed,  permitted  the  purchase  of  the 
necessary  supplies  and  equipment. 

During  all  this  time  of  waiting,  a  small  flood  of 
"crank"  letters  poured  in  from  all  over  the  country. 
There  was  an  incredibly  large  number  of  persons  who 
were  simply  oozing  with  inventions  and  schemes,  the 
adoption  of  which  would  absolutely  insure  the  discovery 
of  the  Pole.  Naturally,  in  view  of  the  contemporaneous 
drift  of  inventive  thought,  flying  machines  occupied 
a  high  place  on  the  list.  Motor  cars,  guaranteed  to 
run  over  any  kind  of  ice,  came  next.  One  man  had  a 
submarine  boat  that  he  was  sure  would  do  the  trick, 
though  he  did  not  explain  how  we  were  to  get  up  through 
the  ice  after  we  had  traveled  to  the  Pole  beneath  it. 

Still  another  chap  wanted  to  sell  us  a  portable 
sawmill.  It  was  his  enterprising  idea  that  this  should 
be  set  up  on  the  shore  of  the  central  polar  sea  and  that 
I  was  to  use  it  for  shaping  lumber  with  which  to  build 
a  wooden  tunnel  over  the  ice  of  the  polar  sea  all  the 
way  to  the  Pole.  Another  chap  proposed  that  a  central 
soup  station  be  installed  where  the  other  man  would 


18  THENORTHPOLE 

have  set  up  his  sawmill,  and  that  a  series  of  hose  lines 
be  run  thence  over  the  ice  so  that  the  outlying  parties 
struggling  over  the  ice  to  the  Pole  could  be  warmed 
and  invigorated  with  hot  soup  from  the  central 
station. 

Perhaps  the  gem  of  the  whole  collection  was  fur- 
nished by  an  inventor  who  desired  me  to  play  the  part 
of  the  "human  cannon-ball."  He  would  not  disclose 
the  details  of  his  invention,  apparently  lest  I  should 
steal  it,  but  it  amounted  to  this:  If  I  could  get  the 
machine  up  there,  and  could  get  it  pointed  in  exactly 
the  right  direction,  and  could  hold  on  long  enough, 
it  would  shoot  me  to  the  Pole  without  fail.  This  was 
surely  a  man  of  one  idea.  He  was  so  intent  on  getting 
me  shot  to  the  Pole  that  he  seemed  to  be  utterly  care- 
less of  what  happened  to  me  in  the  process  of  landing 
there  or  of  how  I  should  get  back. 

Many  friends  of  the  expedition  who  could  not  send 
cash  sent  useful  articles  of  equipment,  for  the  comfort 
or  amusement  of  the  men.  Among  such  articles  were  a 
billiard  table,  various  games,  and  innumerable  books. 
A  member  of  the  expedition  having  said  to  a  newspaper 
man,  a  short  time  before  the  Roosevelt  sailed,  that  we 
had  not  much  reading  matter,  the  ship  was  deluged 
with  books,  magazines,  and  newspapers,  which  came 
literally  in  wagon  loads.  They  were  strewn  in  every 
cabin,  in  every  locker,  on  the  mess  tables,  on  the  deck, 
—  everywhere.  But  the  generosity  of  the  public  was 
very  gratifying,  and  there  was  much  good  reading 
among  the  books  and  magazines. 

When  the  time  came  for  the  Roosevelt  to  sail,  we  had 
everything  which  we  absolutely  needed  in  the  way  of 


PREPARATIONS  19 

equipment,  including  boxes  of  Christmas  candy,  one 
for  every  man  on  board,  a  gift  from  Mrs.  Peary. 

It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  that  this  whole 
expedition,  together  with  the  ship,  was  American  from 
start  to  finish.  We  did  not  purchase  a  Newfoundland 
or  Norwegian  sealer  and  fix  it  over  for  our  purposes, 
as  in  the  case  of  other  expeditions.  The  Roosevelt  was 
built  of  American  timber  in  an  American  shipyard, 
engined  by  an  American  firm  with  American  metal, 
and  constructed  on  American  designs.  Even  the  most 
trivial  items  of  supplies  were  of  American  manufacture. 
As  regards  personnel  almost  the  same  can  be  said. 
Though  Captain  Bartlett  and  the  crew  were  Newfound- 
landers, the  Newfoundlanders  are  our  next-door  neigh- 
bors and  essentially  our  first  cousins.  This  expedition 
went  north  in  an  American-built  ship,  by  the  Ameri- 
can route,  in  command  of  an  American,  to  secure 
if  possible  an  American  trophy.  The  Roosevelt  was 
built  with  a  knowledge  of  the  requirements  of  arctic 
navigation,  gained  by  the  experience  of  an  American 
on  six  former  voyages  into  the  Arctic. 

I  was  extremely  fortunate  in  the  personnel  of  this 
last  and  successful  expedition,  for  in  choosing  the  men 
I  had  the  membership  of  the  previous  expedition  to 
draw  from.  A  season  in  the  Arctic  is  a  great  test  of 
character.  One  may  know  a  man  better  after  six  months 
with  him  beyond  the  Arctic  circle  than  after  a  lifetime 
of  acquaintance  in  cities.  There  is  a  something  —  I 
know  not  what  to  call  it  —  in  those  frozen  spaces,  that 
brings  a  man  face  to  face  with  himself  and  with  his 
companions;  if  he  is  a  man,  the  man  comes  out;  and, 
-if  he  is  a  cur,  the  cur  shows  as  quickly. 


20  THENORTHPOLE 

First  and  most  valuable  of  all  was  Bartlett,  master 
of  the  Roosevelt,  whose  ability  had  been  proved  on  the 
expedition  of  1905-6^  Robert  A.  Bartlett,  "Captain 
Bob,"  as  we  affectionately  call  him,  comes  from  a 
family  of  hardy  Newfoundland  navigators,  long  asso- 
ciated with  arctic  work.  He  was  thirty-three  when 
we  last  sailed  north.  Blue-eyed,  brown-haired,  stocky, 
and  steel-muscled  Bartlett,  whether  at  the  wheel  of 
the  Roosevelt  hammering  a  passage  through  the  floes, 
or  tramping  and  stumbling  over  the  ice  pack,  with 
the  sledges,  or  smoothing  away  the  troubles  of  the 
crew,  was  always  the  same  —  tireless,  faithful,  enthusi- 
astic, true  as  the  compass. 

Matthew  A.  Henson,  my  negro  assistant,  has  been 
with  me  in  one  capacity  or  another  since  my  second 
trip  to  Nicaragua,  in  1887.  I  have  taken  him  with  me 
on  each  and  all  of  my  northern  expeditions,  except 
the  first,  in  188^,  and  almost  without  exception  on 
each  of  my  "farthest"  sledge  trips.  This  position  I 
have  given  him,  primarily  because  of  his  adaptability 
and  fitness  for  the  work;  secondly  on  account  of  his 
loyalty.  He  has  shared  all  the  physical  hardships  of 
my  arctic  work.  He  is  now  about  forty  years  old, 
and  can  handle  a  sledge  better,  and  is  probably  a  better 
dog-driver,  than  any  other  man  hving,  except  some  of 
the  best  of  the  Eskimo  hunters  themselves. 

Ross  G.  Marvin,  my  secretary  and  assistant,  who 
lost  his  life  on  the  expedition;  George  A.  Wardwell, 
chief  engineer;  Percy,  the  steward;  and  Murphy,  the 
boatswain,  had  all  been  with  me  before.  Dr.  Wolf, 
who  was  the  surgeon  of  the  expedition  of  1905-6,  had 
made  professional  arrangements  which  prevented  him 


PKEPARATIONS  21 

from  going  north  again,  and  his  place  was  taken  by 
Dr.  J.  W.  Goodsell,  of  New  Kensington,  Pa. 

Dr.  Goodsell  is  a  descendant  of  an  old  English 
family  that  has  had  representatives  in  America  for 
two  hundred  and  fifty  years.  His  great  grandfather 
was  a  soldier  in  Washington's  army  when  Cornwallis 
surrendered,  and  his  father,  George  H.  Goodsell,  spent 
many  adventurous  years  at  sea  and  fought  through 
the  Civil  War  in  the  Union  army.  Dr.  Goodsell  was 
born  near  Leechburg,  Pa.,  in  1873.  He  received  his 
medical  degree  from  Pulte  Medical  College,  Cincin- 
nati, 0.,  and  has  since  practised  medicine  at  New 
Kensington,  Pa.,  specializing  in  clinical  microscopy. 
He  is  a  member  of  the  Homeopathic  Medical  Society 
of  Pennsylvania  and  of  the  American  Medical  Associa- 
tion. At  the  time  of  his  departure  on  the  expedition 
he  was  president  of  the  Alleghany  Valley  Medical 
Society.  His  publications  include  "Direct  Microscopic 
Examination  as  Applied  to  Preventive  Medicine  and 
the  Newer  Therapy"  and  "Tuberculosis  and  Its 
Diagnosis." 

As  the  scope  of  this  expedition  was  wider  than  that 
of  the  previous  ones,  contemplating  more  extensive 
tidal  observations  for  the  United  States  Coast  and 
Geodetic  Survey,  and,  if  conditions  permitted,  lateral 
sledge  trips  east  to  Cape  Morris  K.  Jesup  and  west 
to  Cape  Thomas  Hubbard,  I  enlarged  my  field  party, 
as  it  may  be  called,  and  added  to  the  expedition  Mr. 
Donald  B.  MacMillan,  of  Worcester  Academy,  and 
Mr.  George  Borup,  of  New  York  City. 

MacMillan  is  the  son  of  a  sea  captain  and  was  born 
at  Provincetown,  Mass.,  in  1874.     His  father's  ship 


22  THENORTHPOLE 

sailed  from  Boston  nearly  thirty  years  ago  and  was 
never  heard  from  again.  His  mother  died  the  next  year, 
leaving  the  son  with  four  other  young  children.  When 
MacMillan  was  fifteen  years  old  he  went  to  live  with 
his  sister  at  Freeport,  Me.,  where  he  was  prepared 
in  the  local  high  school  to  enter  Bowdoin  College, 
being  graduated  from  my  alma  mater  in  1898.  Like 
Borup,  MacMillan  excelled  in  undergraduate  athletics, 
played  half-back  on  the  Bowdoin  'varsity  eleven  and 
won  a  place  on  the  track  team.  From  1898  to  1900 
he  was  principal  of  the  Levi  Hall  School  at  North 
Gorham,  Me.,  going  thence  to  become  head  master 
of  the  Latin  Department  at  Swarthmore  Preparatory 
School  of  Swarthmore,  Pa.  Here  he  remained  until 
1903  when  he  became  instructor  in  Mathematics  and 
Physical  Training  at  Worcester  Academy,  Mass., 
where  he  remained  until  he  went  north  with  the  expe- 
dition. He  holds  the  Humane  Society's  certificate  for 
saving  a  number  of  lives  some  years  ago,  an  exploit 
which  it  is  difficult  to  induce  him  to  talk  about. 

George  Borup  was  born  at  Sing  Sing,  N.  Y.,  Sept. 
2,  1885.  He  prepared  for  Yale  at  Groton  School,  where 
he  spent  the  years  from  1889  to  1903,  and  was  grad- 
uated from  Yale  in  1907.  At  college  he  was  prominent 
in  athletics,  was  a  member  of  the  Yale  track  and  golf 
teams,  and  made  a  reputation  as  a  wrestler.  After  his 
graduation  he  spent  a  year  as  a  special  apprentice  in 
the  machine  shops  of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Com- 
pany at  Altoona,  Pa. 

To  Captain  Bartlett  I  left  the  selection  of  his  officers 
and  men,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  chief 
engineer. 


PREPARATIONS  23 

The  personnel  of  the  expedition,  as  finally  com- 
pleted when  the  Roosevelt  left  Sydney  on  the  17th  of 
July,  1908,  included  twenty -two  men,  as  follows: 
Robert  E.  Peary,  commanding  expedition;  Robert 
A.  Bartlett,  master  of  the  Roosevelt;  George  A.  Ward- 
well,  chief  engineer;  Dr.  J.  W.  Goodsell,  surgeon; 
Prof.  Ross  G.  Marvin,  assistant;  Donald  B.  MacMillan, 
assistant;  George  Borup,  assistant;  Matthew  A.  Henson, 
assistant;  Thomas  Gushue,  mate;  John  Murphy,  boat- 
swain; Banks  Scott,  second  engineer;  Charles  Percy, 
steward;  William  Pritchard,  cabin  boy;  John  Connors, 
John  Coady,  John  Barnes,  Denis  Murphy,  George 
Percy,  seamen;  James  Bently,  Patrick  Joyce,  Patrick 
Skeans,  John  Wiseman,  firemen. 

The  supplies  for  the  expedition  were  abundant  in 
quantity,  but  not  numerous  in  variety.  Years  of  ex- 
perience had  given  me  the  knowledge  of  exactly  what  I 
wanted  and  how  much  of  it.  The  absolutely  essential 
supplies  for  a  serious  arctic  expedition  are  few,  but 
they  should  be  of  the  best  quality.  Luxuries  have  no 
place  in  arctic  work. 

Supplies  for  an  arctic  expedition  naturally  divide 
themselves  into  two  classes:  those  for  the  sledge  work 
in  the  field;  those  for  the  ship,  going  and  returning, 
and  in  winter  quarters.  The  supplies  for  sledge  work 
are  of  a  special  character,  and  have  to  be  prepared  and 
packed  in  such  a  way  as  to  secure  the  maximum  of 
nourishment  with  the  minimum  of  weight,  of  bulk, 
and  of  tare  (that  is,  the  weight  of  the  packing). 
The  essentials,  and  the  only  essentials,  needed  in  a 
serious  arctic  sledge  journey,  no  matter  what  the 
season,  the  temperature,  or  the  duration  of  the  journey 


24  THENORTHPOLE 

—  whether  one  month  or  six  —  are  four:  pemmican,  tea, 
ship's  biscuit,  condensed  milk.  Pemmican  is  a  prepared 
and  condensed  food,  made  from  beef,  fat  and  dried 
fruits.  It  may  be  regarded  as  the  most  concentrated 
and  satisfying  of  all  meat  foods,  and  is  absolutely 
indispensable  in  protracted  arctic  sledge  journeys. 

The  food  for  use  on  shipboard  and  in  winter  quarters 
comprises  standard  commercial  supplies.  My  expedi- 
tions have  been  perhaps  peculiar  in  omitting  one  item 

—  and  that  is  meat.  For  this  important  addition  to 
arctic  food  I  have  always  depended  on  the  country 
itself.  Meat  is  the  object  of  the  hunting  expeditions 
of  the  winter  months  —  not  sport,  as  some  have 
fancied. 

Here  are  a  few  of  the  items  and  figures  on  our  list 
of  supplies  for  the  last  expedition:  Flour,  16,000  pounds; 
coffee,  1,000  pounds;  tea,  800  pounds;  sugar,  10,000 
pounds;  kerosene,  3,500  gallons;  bacon,  7,000  pounds; 
biscuit,  10,000  pounds;  condensed  milk,  100  cases; 
pemmican,  30,000  pounds;  dried  fish,  3,000  pounds; 
smoking  tobacco,  1,000  pounds. 


CHAPTER  III 


THE    STAHT 


FROM  her  berth  beside  the  recreation  pier  at  the 
foot  of  East  Twenty-fourth  Street,  New  York, 
the  Roosevelt  steamed  north  on  the  last  expe- 
dition, about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  July  6, 
1908.  As  the  ship  backed  out  into  the  river,  a  cheer 
that  echoed  over  Blackwell's  Island  went  up  from  the 
thousands  who  had  gathered  on  the  piers  to  see  us 
off;  while  the  yacht  fleet,  the  tugboats  and  the  ferry- 
boats tooted  their  good  wishes.  It  was  an  interesting 
coincidence  that  the  day  on  which  we  started  for  the 
coldest  spot  on  earth  was  about  the  hottest  which  New 
York  had  known  for  years.  There  were  thirteen  deaths 
from  heat  and  seventy-two  heat  prostrations  recorded 
in  Greater  New  York  for  that  day,  while  we  were  bound 
for  a  region  where  sixty  below  zero  is  not  an  excep- 
tional temperature. 

We  started  with  about  one  hundred  guests  of  the 
Peary  Arctic  Club  on  board  the  Roosevelt,  and  several 
members  of  the  Club,  including  the  president,  General 
Thomas  H.  Hubbard;  the  vice-president,  Zenas  Crane; 
and  the  secretary  and  treasurer,  Herbert  L.  Bridg- 
man. 

As  we  steamed  up  the  river  the  din  grew  louder 
and  louder,  the  whistles  of  the  power-houses  and  the 
factories  adding   their   salutations  to  the  tooting  of 

25 


26  THENORTHPOLE 

the  river  craft.  At  Blackwell's  Island  many  of  the 
inmates  were  out  in  force  to  wave  us  their  good-bys, 
and  their  farewells  were  not  the  less  appreciated  because 
given  by  men  whom  society  had  placed  under  restraint 
for  society's  good.  Anyhow,  they  wished  us  well. 
I  hope  they  are  all  enjoying  liberty  now,  and,  what  is 
better,  deserving  it.  Near  Fort  Totten  we  passed 
President  Roosevelt's  naval  yacht,  the  Mayflower, 
and  her  small  gun  roared  out  a  parting  salute,  while 
the  officers  and  men  waved  and  cheered.  Surely  no 
ship  ever  started  for  the  end  of  the  earth  with  more 
heart-stirring  farewells  than  those  which  followed  the 
Roosevelt. 

Just  before  we  reached  the  Stepping  Stone  Light, 
Mrs.  Peary,  the  members  and  guests  of  the  Peary 
Arctic  Club,  and  myself  were  transferred  to  the  tug 
Narkeeta  and  returned  to  New  York.  The  ship  went  on 
to  Oyster  Bay,  Long  Island,  the  summer  home  of 
President  Roosevelt,  where  Mrs.  Peary  and  I  were  to 
lunch  with  the  President  and  Mrs.  Roosevelt  the  fol- 
lowing day. 

Theodore  Roosevelt  is  to  me  the  most  intensely 
vital  man,  and  the  biggest  man,  America  has  ever 
produced.  He  has  that  vibrant  energy  and  enthu- 
siasm which  is  the  basis  of  all  real  power  and 
accomplishment.  When  it  came  to  christening  the 
ship  by  whose  aid  it  was  hoped  to  fight  our  way 
toward  the  most  inaccessible  spot  on  earth,  the  name 
of  Roosevelt  seemed  to  be  the  one  and  inevitable 
choice.  It  held  up  as  ideals  before  the  expedition 
those  very  qualities  of  strength,  insistence,  persistence, 
and    triumph    over  obstacles,  which  have  made  tte 


THESTART  27 

twenty-sixth  President  of  the  United  States  so 
great. 

In  the  course  of  that  last  luncheon  at  Sagamore 
Hill,  President  Roosevelt  reiterated  what  he  had  said 
to  me  so  many  times  before,  that  he  was  earnestly 
and  profoundly  interested  in  my  work,  and  that  he 
believed  I  would  succeed  if  success  were  possible. 

After  luncheon  the  President  and  Mrs.  Roosevelt, 
with  their  three  sons,  came  on  board  the  ship  with 
Mrs.  Peary  and  me.  Mr.  Bridgman  was  on  deck, 
to  welcome  them  in  the  name  of  the  Peary  Arctic 
Club.  The  Roosevelt  party  remained  on  board  about 
an  hour;  the  President  inspected  every  part  of  the  ship, 
shook  hands  with  every  member  of  the  expedition 
present,  including  the  crew,  and  even  made  the 
acquaintance  of  my  Eskimo  dogs,  North  Star  and  the 
others,  which  had  been  brought  down  from  one  of  my 
islands  in  Casco  Bay,  on  the  coast  of  Maine.  As  he  was 
going  over  the  rail,  I  said  to  him:  "Mr.  President,  I 
shall  put  into  this  effort  everything  there  is  in  me  — 
physical,  mental,  and  moral."  And  he  replied,  "I 
believe  in  you,  Peary,  and  I  believe  in  your  success  — 
if  it  is  within  the  possibility  of  man." 

The  Roosevelt  stopped  at  New  Bedford  for  the 
whale-boats,  and  also  made  a  short  stop  at  Eagle 
Island,  our  summer  home  on  the  coast  of  Maine,  to 
take  aboard  the  massive,  steel-bound  spare  rudder, 
which  we  carried  as  a  precaution  against  disaster  in 
the  coming  battle  royal  with  the  ice.  On  the  former 
expedition,  when  we  had  no  extra  rudder,  we  could  have 
used  two.  But,  as  things  turned  out  this  time,  when  we 
had  the  extra  rudder  we  had  no  occasion  to  use  it. 


28  THENORTHPOLE 

Our  departure  from  Eagle  Island  was  timed  so  that 
Mrs.  Peary  and  I  should  arrive  by  train  at  Sydney, 
Cape  Breton,  the  same  day  as  the  ship.  I  have  a  very 
tender  feeling  for  the  picturesque  little  town  of  Syd- 
ney. Eight  times  have  I  headed  north  from  there  on 
my  arctic  quest.  My  recollections  of  the  town  date 
back  to  1886,  when  I  went  there  with  Captain  Jackman 
in  the  whaler  Eagle,  and  lay  at  the  coal  wharves  for 
a  day  or  two  filling  the  ship  with  coal  for  my 
very  first  northern  voyage,  the  summer  cruise  to 
Greenland,  during  which  journey  the  "arctic  fever" 
got  a  grip  upon  me  from  which  I  have  never 
recovered. 

Since  that  time  the  town  has  grown  from  a  little 
settlement  of  one  decent  hotel  and  a  few  houses,  to  a 
prosperous  city  with  seventeen  thousand  inhabitants, 
many  industries,  and  one  of  the  largest  steel  plants 
in  the  western  hemisphere.  My  reason  for  choosing 
Sydney  as  a  starting  point  was  because  of  the  coal 
mines  there.  It  is  the  place  nearest  to  the  arctic 
regions  where  a  ship  can  fill  with  coal. 

My  feelings,  on  leaving  Sydney  this  last  time, 
though  difficult  to  describe,  were  different  from  those 
at  the  start  of  any  previous  expedition.  I  felt  no 
uneasiness  once  the  lines  were  cast  off,  for  I  knew  that 
everything  had  been  done  which  could  be  done  to 
insure  success,  and  that  every  essential  item  of  supplies 
was  on  board.  On  former  journeys  I  had  sometimes 
felt  anxiety,  but  through  the  whole  of  this  last  expedi- 
tion I  allowed  nothing  to  worry  me.  Perhaps  this 
feeling  of  surety  was  because  every  possible  contin- 
gency had  been  discounted,  perhaps  because  the  set- 


THESTART  29 

backs  and  knock-out  blows  received  in  the  past  had 
dulled  my  sense  of  danger. 

The  Roosevelt  having  coaled  at  Sydney,  we  crossed 
the  bay  to  North  Sydney  to  take  on  some  last  items 
of  supplies.  When  we  started  to  leave  the  wharf 
over  there  we  discovered  that  we  were  aground,  and 
had  to  wait  an  hour  or  so  for  the  tide  to  rise.  In  our 
efforts  to  move  the  ship,  one  of  the  whale-boats  was 
crushed  between  the  davits  and  the  side  of  the  pier; 
but  after  eight  arctic  campaigns  one  does  not  regard 
a  little  accident  like  that  as  a  bad  omen. 

We  got  away  from  North  Sydney  about  half  past 
three  in  the  afternoon  of  July  17,  in  glittering  golden 
sunshine.  As  we  passed  the  signal  station,"  they  sig- 
naled us,  "Good-by  and  a  prosperous  voyage";  we 
replied,  "Thank  you,"  and  dipped  our  colors. 

A  little  tug,  which  we  had  chartered  to  take  our 
guests  back  to  Sydney,  followed  the  Roosevelt  as  far 
as  Low  Point  Light,  outside  the  harbor;  there  she  ran 
alongside,  and  Mrs.  Peary  and  the  children,  and  Colo- 
nel Borup,  with  two  or  three  other  friends,  transferred 
to  her.  As  my  five-year-old  son,  Robert,  kissed  me 
good-by,  he  said,  "Come  back  soon,  dad."  With 
reluctant  eyes  I  watched  the  little  tug  grow  smaller 
and  smaller  in  the  blue  distance.  Another  farewell 
—  and  there  had  been  so  many !  Brave,  noble  little 
woman!  You  have  borne  with  me  the  brunt  of  all 
my  arctic  work.  But,  somehow,  this  parting  was  less 
sad  than  any  which  had  gone  before.  I  think  that  we 
both  felt  it  was  the  last. 

By  the  time  the  stars  came  out,  the  last  items  of 
supplies  taken  on  at  North  Sydney  were  stowed,  and 


30  THENORTHPOLE 

the  decks  at  least  were  unusually  free  for  an  arctic 
ship  just  starting  northward  —  all  but  the  quarter- 
deck, which  was  piled  high  with  bags  of  coal. 

Inside  the  cabins,  however,  all  was  litter  and  con- 
fusion. My  room  was  filled  so  full  of  things  —  instru- 
ments, books,  furniture,  presents  from  friends,  sup- 
plies, et  cetera  —  that  there  was  no  space  for  me. 
Since  my  return  some  one  has  asked  me  if  I  played  on 
the  pianola  in  my  cabin  that  first  day  at  sea.  I  did 
not,  for  the  excellent  reason  that  I  could  not  get  near 
it.  The  thrilling  experiences  of  those  first  few  hours 
were  mainly  connected  with  excavating  a  space  some 
six  feet  long  by  two  feet  broad  in  the  region  of  my 
bunkjwhere  I  could  lay  myself  down  to  sleep  when  the 
time  came. 

I  have  a  special  affection  for  my  little  cabin  on 
the  Roosevelt.  Its  size  and  the  comfort  of  the  bath- 
room adjoining  were  the  only  luxuries  which  I  allowed 
myself.  The  cabin  is  plain,  of  matched  yellow  pine, 
painted  white.  Its  conveniences  are  the  evolution 
of  long  experience  in  the  arctic  regions.  It  has  a 
wide  built-in  bunk,  an  ordinary  writing  desk,  several 
book  units,  a  wicker  chair,  an  ofiice  chair,  and  a  chest 
of  drawers,  these  latter  items  of  furniture  being  Mrs. 
Peary's  contributions  to  my  comfort.  Hanging  over 
the  pianola  was  a  photograph  of  Mr.  Jesup,  and  on 
the  side  wall  was  one  of  President  Roosevelt,  auto- 
graphed. Then  there  were  the  flags,  the  silk  one  made 
by  Mrs.  Peary,  which  I  had  carried  for  years,  the 
flag  of  my  college  fraternity.  Delta  Kappa  Epsilon, 
the  flag  of  the  Navy  League,  and  the  peace  flag  of 
the  Daughters  of  the  American  Revolution.     There 


THESTART  31 

was  also  a  photograph  of  our  home  on  Eagle  Island, 
and  a  fragrant  pillow  made  by  my  daughter  Marie 
from  the  pine  needles  of  that  island. 

The  pianola,  a  gift  from  my  friend  H.  H.  Benedict, 
had  been  my  pleasant  companion  on  my  previous 
voyage,  and  again  on  this  it  proved  one  of  our  great- 
est sources  of  pleasure.  There  were  at  least  two  hun- 
dred pieces  of  music  in  my  collection,  but  the  strains 
of  "Faust"  rolled  out  over  the  Arctic  Ocean  more  often 
than  any  other.  Marches  and  songs  were  also  pop- 
ular, with  the  "Blue  Danube"  waltz;  and  sometimes, 
when  the  spirits  of  my  party  were  at  rather  a  low  ebb, 
we  had  ragtime  pieces,  which  they  especially  enjoyed. 

There  was  also  in  my  cabin  a  fairly  complete, 
arctic  library  —  absolutely  complete  in  regard  to  all 
the  later  voyages.  These  books,  with  a  large  assort- 
ment of  novels  and  magazines,  could  be  depended  upon 
to  relieve  the  tedium  of  the  long  arctic  night,  and  very 
useful  they  were  found  for  that  purpose.  Sitting  up 
late  at  night  means  something  when  the  night  is  some 
months  long. 

On  the  second  day  out  the  carpenter  began  the 
repairs  on  the  crushed  whale-boat,  using  lumber  which 
we  carried  for  such  purposes.  The  sea  was  rough, 
and  the  waist  of  the  ship  was  awash  nearly  all  day. 
My  companions  were  gradually  getting  settled  in 
their  cabins;  and  if  any  man  had  qualms  of  homesick- 
ness, he  kept  them  to  himself. 

Our  living  quarters  were  in  the  after  deckhouse, 
which  extends  the  full  width  of  the  Roosevelt  from  a 
little  aft  of  the  mainmast  to  the  mizzenmast.  In  the 
center  is  the  engine-room,  with  the  skylight  and  the 


32  THENORTHPOLE 

uptake  from  the  boilers,  and  on  either  side  are  the 
cabins  and  the  messrooms.  My  own  cabin  occupied 
the  starboard  corner  aft;  forward  from  this  was  Hen- 
son's  room,  the  starboard  messroom,  and  in  the  for- 
ward starboard  corner  Surgeon  Goodsell's  room.  On 
the  port  side  aft  was  Captain  Bartlett's  room,  occupied 
by  himself  and  Marvin,  and  forward  from  this  in  suc- 
cession the  cabin  of  the  chief  engineer  and  his  assist- 
ant, the  cabin  of  Percy,  the  steward,  and  the  cabin  of 
MacMillan  and  Borup;  then  the  mate  and  the  boat- 
swain were  in  the  forward  port  corner  of  the  deckhouse, 
next  the  port  messroom  of  the  junior  officers.  The 
starboard  mess  comprised  Bartlett,  Dr.  Goodsell, 
Marvin,  MacMillan,  Borup,  and  myself. 

I  shall  not  dwell  at  great  length  upon  the  first 
stage  of  the  journey  from  Sydney  to  Cape  York, 
Greenland,  for  the  reason  that  is  only  a  pleasant  sum- 
mer cruise  at  that  season  of  the  year,  such  as  any  fair- 
sized  yacht  may  undertake  without  peril  or  adventure; 
and  there  are  more  interesting  and  unusual  things 
to  write  about.  In  passing  through  the  Straits  of 
Belle  Isle,  "the  graveyard  of  ships,"  where  there  is 
always  danger  of  encountering  icebergs  in  the  fog,  or 
being  swung  upon  the  shore  by  the  strong  and  capri- 
cious currents,  I  remained  up  all  night,  as  any  man 
would  who  had  care  for  his  ship.  But  I  could  not  help 
contrasting  that  easy  summer  passage  with  our  return 
in  November,  1906,  when  the  Roosevelt  was  standing 
on  end  half  the  time,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  was 
rolling  the  rail  under  water,  losing  two  rudders,  being 
smashed  by  the  sea,  creeping  along  the  Labrador 
coast  in  the  berg  season,  through  dense  fog,  and  pick- 


THESTART  33 

ing  up  Point  Amour  Light  only  when  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  the  shore,  guided  only  by  the  sirens  at  Point 
Amour  and  Bald  Head,  and  the  whistles  of  the  big 
steamships  lying  at  the  entrance  of  the  strait,  afraid 
to  attempt  the  passage. 


CHAPTER  IV 


UP    TO    CAPE    YORK 


ON  Sunday,  July  19,  we  sent  a  boat  ashore  at 
Point    Amour    Light    with    telegrams    back 
home  —  the  last.     I  wondered  what  my  first 
despatch  would  be  the  following  year. 

At  Cape  St.  Charles  we  dropped  anchor  in  front 
of  the  whaling  station.  Two  whales  had  been  cap- 
tured there  the  day  before,  and  I  immediately  bought 
one  of  them  as  food  for  the  dogs.  This  meat  was 
stowed  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the  Roosevelt.  There 
are  several  of  these  "whale  factories"  on  the  Labrador 
coast.  They  send  out  a  fast  steel  steamer,  with  a  har- 
poon gun  at  the  bow.  When  a  whale  is  sighted  they 
give  chase,  and  when  near  enough  discharge  into  the 
monster  a  harpoon  with  an  explosive  bomb  attached. 
The  explosion  kills  him.  Then  he  is  lashed  alongside, 
towed  into  the  station,  hauled  out  on  the  timberways, 
and  there  cut  up,  every  part  of  the  enormous  carcass 
being  utilized  for  some  commercial  purpose. 

We  stopped  again  at  Hawks  Harbor,  where  the 
Erik,  our  auxiliary  supply  steamer,  was  awaiting  us 
with  some  twenty -five  tons  of  whale  meat  on  board; 
and  an  hour  or  two  later,  a  beautiful  white  yacht 
followed  us  in.  I  recognized  her  as  Harkness's  Wakiva 
of  the  New  York  Yacht  Club.  Twice  during  the 
winter  she  had  lain  close  to  the  Roosevelt  in  New  York, 

84 


UPTOCAPEYORK  35 

at  the  East  Twenty -fourth  Street  pier,  coaling  between 
her  voyages;  and  now,  by  a  strange  chance,  the  two 
vessels  lay  side  by  side  again  in  this  little  out-of-the- 
way  harbor  on  the  Labrador  coast.  No  two  ships 
could  be  more  unlike  than  these  two:  one  white 
as  snow,  her  brasswork  glittering  in  the  sun,  speedy, 
light  as  an  arrow;  the  other  black,  slow,  heavy,  almost 
as  solid  as  a  rock  —  each  built  for  a  special  purpose 
and  adapted  to  that  purpose. 

Mr.  Harkness  and  a  party  of  friends,  including 
several  ladies,  came  on  board  the  Roosevelt,  and  the 
dainty  dresses  of  our  feminine  guests  further  accentu- 
ated the  blackness,  the  strength,  and  the  not  over 
cleanly  condition  of  our  ship. 

We  stopped  once  more  at  Turnavik  Island,  a 
fishing  station  belonging  to  Captain  Bartlett's  father, 
and  took  on  a  consignment  of  Labrador  skin  boots, 
for  which  we  should  have  use  in  the  North.  Just 
before  reaching  the  Island  we  encountered  a  furious 
thunderstorm.  It  was  the  most  northerly  thunder- 
storm which  I  remember  having  experienced. 

I  recall,  however,  that  on  our  upward  voyage  in 
1905  we  ran  into  very  heavy  thunderstorms  with  elec- 
trical displays  quite  as  sharp  as  any  encountered  in 
Gulf  storms  on  voyages  in  southern  waters,  though 
the  storms  of  1905  were  met  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Cabot  Strait,  far  south  of  those  of  1908. 

Our  voyage  to  Cape  York  was  a  peaceful  one, 
lacking  even  the  small  excitement  of  the  same  journey 
three  years  before,  when,  not  far  from  Cape  St.  George, 
all  hands  were  startled  by  an  alarm  of  fire  which  started 
in  one  of  the  main  deck  beams  from  the  uptake  of 


36  THENORTHPOLE 

the  boilers.  Nor  were  we  so  plagued  with  fog  in 
the  early  stages  of  our  journey  as  we  were  in  1905. 
In  fact,  every  omen  was  auspicious  from  the  very 
start,  so  auspicious  indeed  that  perhaps  the  more 
superstitious  of  the  sailors  thought  our  luck  was  too 
good  to  last,  while  one  member  of  our  expedition  was 
continually  "knocking  on  wood,"  just  as  a  precaution, 
as  he  expressed  it.  It  would  be  rash  to  say  that  his 
forethought  had  much  to  do  with  our  success,  but  it 
eased  his  mind,  at  all  events. 

As  we  steamed  steadily  northward  the  nights  grew 
shorter  and  shorter,  and  lighter  and  lighter,  so  that 
when  we  crossed  the  Arctic  Circle,  soon  after  midnight 
on  July  26,  we  were  in  perpetual  daylight.  I  have 
crossed  the  Circle  some  twenty  times,  going  and  com- 
ing, so  the  fine  edge  of  that  experience  has  been  some- 
what dulled  for  me;  but  the  arctic  "tenderfeet"  among 
my  party.  Dr.  Goodsell,  MacMillan,  and  Borup,  were 
appropriately  impressed.  They  felt  as  one  feels  in 
crossing  the  equator  the  first  time  —  that  it  is  an 
event. 

The  Roosevelt,  steaming  ever  northward,  was  now 
well  on  her  way  to  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  all 
arctic  localities.  It  is  the  little  oasis  amid  a  .wilder- 
ness of  ice  and  snow  along  the  west  coast  of  northern 
Greenland  midway  between  Kane  Basin  on  the  north 
and  Melville  Bay  on  the  south.  Here,  in  striking 
contrast  to  the  surrounding  country,  is  animal  and 
vegetable  life  in  plenty,  and  in  the  course  of  the  last 
hundred  years  some  half  dozen  arctic  expeditions 
have  wintered  here.  Here,  too,  is  the  home  of  a  little 
tribe  of  Eskimos. 


SNOWY  OWL,   CAPE  SHERIDAN 


BRANT-GOOSE 


SABINE  S  GULL 


RIOD-THKOATEK    IJI\  I.R,   MALE  A.\U 
FE-MALE 


KING    lOIOEK,    DRAKE 


UPTOCAPEYORK  37 

This  little  refuge  is  about  a  3,000  mile  sail  from 
New  York  and  about  2,000  miles  as  the  bird  flies.  It 
is  about  600  miles  north  of  the  Arctic  Circle  and  about 
half  way  from  that  great  latitudinal  mark  to  the  Pole 
itself.  Here  the  great  arctic  night  averages  one  hundred 
and  ten  days  in  winter,  during  which  time  no  ray  of 
light  falls  upon  the  sight,  save  that  of  the  moon  and  the 
stars,  while  in  summer  the  sun  is  visible  every  moment 
for  an  equal  number  of  days.  Within  the  limits  of 
this  little  country  is  found  the  favorite  haunt  of  the 
reindeer,  which  find  sufficient  pasturage.  But  we  are 
interested  for  the  present  in  this  unique  spot  only  in 
passing  and  for  the  reason  that  here  we  picked  up  the 
little  denizens  of  the  frigid  zone  who  were  to  help  us 
in  our  struggle  farther  north. 

Before  we  reached  this  odd  little  oasis,  but  several 
hundred  miles  beyond  the  Arctic  Circle,  we  came  to 
a  most  significant  point  in  our  upward  journey,  mark- 
ing as  it  did  the  grimness  of  the  task  before  us.  No 
civilized  man  can  die  in  this  savage  Northland 
without  his  grave  having  a  deep  meaning  for  those 
who  come  afterwards;  and  constantly,  as  we  sailed 
on,  these  voiceless  reminders  of  heroic  bones  told  their 
silent  but  powerful  story. 

At  the  southern  limit  of  Melville  Bay  we  passed 
the  Duck  Islands,  where  is  the  little  graveyard  of  the 
Scotch  whalers  who  were  the  pioneers  in  forcing  the 
passage  of  Melville  Bay  and  who  died  there,  waiting 
for  the  ice  to  open.  These  graves  date  back  to  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century.  From  this  point 
on,  the  arctic  highway  is  marked  by  the  graves  of 
those  who  have  fallen  in  the  terrible  fight  with  cold 


38  THENORTHPOLE 

and  hunger.  These  rude  rock  piles  bring  home  to 
any  thoughtful  person  the  meaning  of  arctic  explora- 
tion. The  men  who  lie  there  were  not  less  courageous, 
not  less  intelligent,  than  the  members  of  my  own  party; 
they  were  simply  less  fortunate. 

Let  us  look  along  that  highway  for  a  moment  and 
consider  these  memorials.  At  North  Star  Bay  are 
one  or  two  graves  of  men  from  the  British  ship  North 
Star,  which  wintered  there  in  1850.  Out  on  the  Gary 
Islands  is  the  nameless  grave  of  one  of  the  ill-fated 
Kalstenius  Expedition.  Still  farther  north,  at  Etah, 
is  the  grave  of  Sonntag,  the  astronomer  of  Hayes's 
Expedition;  and  a  little  above  it,  that  of  Ohlsen  of 
Kane's  party.  On  the  opposite  side  are  the  unmarked 
places  where  sixteen  of  Greely's  ill-fated  party  died. 
Still  farther  north,  on  the  eastern  or  Greenland 
side,  is  the  grave  of  Hall,  the  American  commander 
of  the  Polaris  Expedition.  On  the  western,  or  Grant 
Land  side,  are  the  graves  of  two  or  three  sailors  of 
the  British  Arctic  Expedition  of  1876.  And  right  on 
the  shore  of  the  central  Polar  Sea,  near  Cape  Sheri- 
dan, is  the  grave  of  the  Dane,  Petersen,  the  interpreter 
of  the  British  Arctic  Expedition  of  1876.  These 
graves  stand  as  mute  records  of  former  efforts  to 
win  the  prize,  and  they  give  a  slight  indication  of  the 
number  of  brave  but  less  fortunate  men  who  have 
given  the  last  possession  of  mortal  life  in  their  pursuit 
of  the  arctic  goal. 

The  first  time  I  saw  the  graves  of  the  whalers  on 
Duck  Islands  I  sat  there,  in  the  arctic  sunlight,  looking 
at  those  headboards,  sobered  with  a  realization  of 
what  they  meant.     When  I  first  saw  Sonntag's  grave, 


UPTOCAPEYORK  39 

at  Etah,  I  carefully  replaced  the  stones  around  it,  as 
a  tribute  to  a  brave  man.  At  Cape  Sabine,  where 
Greely's  party  died,  I  was  the  first  man  to  step  into 
the  ruins  of  the  stone  hut  after  the  seven  survivors 
were  taken  away  years  before  —  the  first  man,  and  I 
stepped  into  those  ruins  in  a  blinding  snowstorm  late 
in  August,  and  saw  there  the  mementos  of  those 
unfortunates. 

Passing  the  Duck  Islands  on  the  upward  voyage, 
approaching  Cape  York  in  1908,  and  thinking  of  the 
graves  there,  I  little  dreamed  that  a  loved  member 
of  my  own  party,  Professor  Ross  G.  Marvin,  who  ate 
at  my  table  and  acted  as  my  secretary,  was  fated  to 
add  his  name  to  this  long  list  of  arctic  victims,  and 
that  his  grave,  in  uncounted  fathoms  of  black  water, 
was  to  be  the  most  northerly  grave  on  this  earth. 

We  reached  Cape  York  on  the  first  day  of  August. 
Cape  York  is  the  bold,  bluflF  headland  which  marks 
the  southern  point  of  the  stretch  of  arctic  coast  inhab- 
ited by  my  Eskimos,  the  most  northerly  human  beings 
in  the  world.  It  is  the  headland  whose  snowy  cap  I 
have  seen  so  many  times  rising  in  the  distance  above 
the  horizon  line  of  Melville  Bay  as  my  ships  have 
steamed  north.  At  the  base  of  the  headland  nestles 
the  most  southerly  of  all  the  Eskimo  villages,  and  it 
has  marked  the  point  of  meeting,  year  after  year, 
between  the  members  of  this  tribe  and  myself. 

At  Cape  York  we  were  on  the  threshold  of  the  actual 
work.  I  had  on  board  the  ship  when  I  arrived  there 
all  the  equipment  and  assistance  which  the  civilized 
world  could  yield.  Beginning  there,  I  was  to  take  on 
the  tools,  the  material,  the  personnel,  that  the  arctic 


40  THE   NORTH   POLE 

regions  themselves  were  to  furnish  for  their  own  con- 
quest. Cape  York,  or  Melville  Bay,  is  the  dividing 
line  between  the  civilized  world  on  the  one  side  and 
the  arctic  world  on  the  other  —  the  arctic  world 
with  its  equipment  of  Eskimos,  dogs,  walrus,  seal,  fur 
clothing,  and  aboriginal  experience. 

Behind  me  lay  the  civilized  world,  which  was  now 
absolutely  useless,  and  which  could  give  me  nothing 
more.  Ahead  of  me  lay  that  trackless  waste  through 
which  I  must  literally  cut  my  way  to  the  goal.  Even 
the  ship's  journey  from  Cape  York  to  winter  quarters 
on  the  north  coast  of  Grant  Land  is  not  "plain  sail- 
ing"; in  fact,  it  is  not  sailing  at  all  during  the  later 
stages;  it  is  jamming  and  butting  and  dodging  and 
hammering  the  ice,  with  always  the  possibility  that 
the  antagonist  will  hit  back  a  body  blow.  It  is  like 
the  work  of  a  skilled  heavy-weight  pugilist,  or  the 
work  of  an  old  Roman  fighter  with  the  cestus. 

Beyond  Melville  Bay  the  world,  or  what  we  know 
as  the  world,  is  left  behind.  On  leaving  Cape  York, 
we  had  exchanged  the  multifarious  purposes  of  civi- 
lization for  the  two  purposes  for  which  there  is  room 
in  those  wide  wastes:  food  for  man  and  dog,  and  the 
covering  of  miles  of  distance. 

Behind  me  now  lay  everything  that  was  mine, 
everything  that  a  man  personally  loves,  family,  friends, 
home,  and  all  those  human  associations  which  linked 
me  with  my  kind.  Ahead  of  me  lay  —  my  dream,  the 
goal  of  that  irresistible  impulse  which  had  driven  me 
for  twenty-three  years  to  measure  myself,  time 
after  time,  against  the  frigid  No  of  the  Great 
North. 


UPTOCAPEYORK  41 

Should  I  succeed?  Should  I  return?  Success 
in  the  attainment  of  90°  North  would  not  inevitably 
carry  with  it  the  safe  return.  We  had  learned  that 
on  recrossing  the  "big  lead"  in  1906.  In  the  Arctic 
the  chances  are  always  against  the  explorer.  The 
inscrutable  guardians  of  the  secret  appear  to  have  a 
well-nigh  inexhaustible  reserve  of  trump  cards  to  play 
against  the  intruder  who  insists  upon  dropping  into 
the  game.  The  life  is  a  dog's  life,  but  the  work  is  a 
man's  work. 

As  we  steamed  northward  from  Cape  York,  on 
the  first  day  of  August,  1908,  I  felt  that  I  was  now  in 
truth  face  to  face  with  the  final  struggle.  Everything 
in  my  life  appeared  to  have  led  up  to  this  day.  All 
my  years  of  work  and  all  my  former  expeditions  were 
merely  preparations  for  this  last  and  supreme  effort. 
It  has  been  said  that  well-directed  labor  toward  a 
given  end  is  an  excellent  kind  of  prayer  for  its  attain- 
ment. If  that  be  so,  then  prayer  has  been  my  portion 
for  many  years.  Through  all  the  seasons  of  disappoint- 
ment and  defeat  I  had  never  ceased  to  believe  that 
the  great  white  mystery  of  the  North  must  eventually 
succumb  to  the  insistence  of  human  experience  and 
will,  and,  standing  there  with  my  back  to  the  world 
and  my  face  toward  that  mystery,  I  believed  that  I 
should  win  in  spite  of  all  the  powers  of  darkness  and 
of  desolation. 


CHAPTER  V 

WELCOME   FROM   THE   ESKIMOS 

AS  we  approached  Cape  York,  which  is  farther 
from  the  Pole  in  actual  distance  than  New 
York  is  from  Tampa,  Florida,  it  was  with  a 
peculiar  feeling  of  satisfaction  that  I  saw  the  foremost 
of  our  Eskimo  friends  putting  out  to  meet  us  in  their 
tiny  kayaks,  or  skin  canoes.  Here  is  the  southernmost 
of  the  Eskimo  villages,  by  which  a  permanent  settle- 
ment is  not  meant,  for  these  barbarians  are  nomads. 
One  year  there  may  be  two  families  there;  another 
year  ten;  and  still  another  season  none  at  all,  for  the 
Eskimos  seldom  live  more  than  a  year  or  two  in  one 
place. 

As  we  neared  the  Cape,  the  headland  was  encircled 
and  guarded  by  an  enormous  squadron  of  floating  ice- 
bergs which  made  it  difficult  for  the  Roosevelt  to  get 
near  shore;  but  long  before  we  reached  these  bergs 
the  hunters  of  the  settlement  were  seen  putting  out  tc 
greet  us.  The  sight  of  them  skimming  the  water  sc 
easily  in  their  frail  kayaks  was  the  most  welcome 
spectacle  I  had  seen  since  we  sailed  from  Sydney. 

It  seems  fitting  to  give  a  good  deal  of  attention  a1 
this  point  to  the  consideration  of  this  interesting  little 
race,  the  most  northerly  people  in  all  the  world,  foi 
their  help  is  one  of  the  elements  without  which  it  ii 
possible  that  the  North  Pole  might  never  have  beei 

42 


ESKIMOS  COMING  OFF  TO  THE  ROOSEVELT  IN  KAYAKS 


THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN  AS  SEEN  IN  THE  WHALE  SOUND   REGION 


WELCOME   FROM   ESKIMOS      43 

reached.  Some  years  ago,  in  fact,  I  had  occasion  to 
write  of  these  people  a  few  sentences  that,  as  it  has 
turned  out,  were  so  prophetic  that  it  seems  appro- 
priate to  reproduce  them  here.  Those  sentences 
were: 

"I  have  often  been  asked:  Of  what  use  are  Eskimos 
to  the  world?  They  are  too  far  removed  to  be  of  value 
for  commercial  enterprises  and,  furthermore,  they  lack 
ambition.  They  have  no  literature  nor,  properly  speak- 
ing, any  art.  They  value  life  only  as  does  a  fox,  or  a 
bear,  purely  by  instinct.  But  let  us  not  forget  that 
these  people,  trustworthy  and  hardy,  will  yet  prove 
their  value  to  mankind.  With  their  help,  the  world 
shall  discover  the  Pole." 

The  hope  that  had  been  expressed  in  this  language 
so  long  before  was  in  my  mind  as  I  saw  my  old  friends 
coming  out  to  meet  us  in  their  tiny  kayaks,  for  I 
realized  that  I  was  once  more  in  contact  with  these 
faithful  dwellers  of  the  North,  who  had  been  my  con- 
stant companions  for  so  many  years,  through  all  the 
varying  circumstances  and  fortunes  of  my  arctic  work, 
and  from  whom  I  was  again  to  select  the  pick  and 
flower  of  the  hunters  of  the  whole  tribe,  extending 
from  Cape  York  to  Etah,  to  assist  in  this  last  effort 
to  win  the  prize. 

Since  1891  I  had  been  living  and  working  with  these 
people,  gaining  their  absolute  confidence,  making  them 
my  debtors  for  things  given  them,  earning  their  grati- 
tude by  saving,  time  after  time,  the  lives  of  their  wives 
and  children  by  supplying  them  with  food  when  they 
were  on  the  verge  of  starvation.  For  eighteen  years  I 
had  been  training  them  in  my  methods;  or,  to  put  it 


44  THENORTHPOLE 

another  way,  teaching  them  how  to  modify  and  con- 
centrate their  wonderful  ice  technic  and  endurance, 
so  as  to  make  them  useful  for  my  purposes.  I  had 
studied  their  individual  characters,  as  any  man  studies 
the  human  tools  with  which  he  expects  to  accomplish 
results,  until  I  knew  just  which  ones  to  select  for  a 
quick,  courageous  dash,  and  just  which  dogged,  un- 
swerving ones  would,  if  necessary,  walk  straight  through 
hell  for  the  object  I  had  placed  before  them. 

I  know  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  tribe, 
from  Cape  York  to  Etah.  Prior  to  1891  they  had  never 
been  farther  north  than  their  own  habitat.  Eighteen 
years  ago  I  went  to  these  people,  and  my  first  work 
was  from  their  country  as  a  base. 

Much  nonsense  has  been  told  by  travelers  in  remote 
lands  about  the  aborigines'  regarding  as  gods  the  white 
men  who  come  to  them,  but  I  have  never  placed  much 
credence  in  these  stories.  My  own  experience  has  been 
that  the  average  aborigine  is  just  as  content  with  his 
own  way  as  we  are  with  ours,  just  as  convinced  of  his 
own  superior  knowledge,  and  that  he  adjusts  himself 
with  his  knowledge  in  regard  to  things  in  the  same 
way  that  we  do.  The  Eskimos  are  not  brutes;  they  are 
just  as  human  as  Caucasians.  They  know  that  I  am 
their  friend,  and  they  have  abundantly  proved  them- 
selves my  friends. 

When  I  went  ashore  at  Cape  York  I  found  there 
four  or  five  families,  living  in  their  summer  tupiks,  or 
skin  tents,  From  them  I  learned  what  had  happened 
in  the  tribe  in  the  last  two  years;  who  had  died,  in  what 
families  children  had  been  born,  where  this  family  and 
that  family  were  then  living  —  that  is,  the  distribution 


WELCOME   FROM   ESKIMOS      45 

of  the  tribe  for  that  particular  summer.  I  thus  learned 
where  to  find  the  other  men  I  wanted. 

It  was  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  we 
arrived  at  Cape  York.  I  selected  the  few  men  needed 
from  that  place,  told  them  that  when  the  sun  reached  a 
certain  point  in  the  heavens  that  evening  the  ship 
would  sail,  and  that  they  and  their  families  and  pos- 
sessions must  be  aboard  the  ship.  As  hunting  is  the 
only  industry  in  these  Eskimo  villages,  and  as  their 
goods  are  of  an  easily  portable  character,  consisting 
mainly  of  tents,  dogs  and  sledges,  a  few  skins,  pots 
and  pans,  they  were  able  to  transport  themselves  to 
the  Roosevelt  in  our  boats  without  much  loss  of  time. 
As  soon  as  they  were  on  board  we  started  north  again. 

There  was  no  question  of  their  willingness  to  follow 
me;  they  were  only  too  glad  to  go.  These  men  knew 
from  past  experience  that,  once  enrolled  as  members 
of  my  expedition,  there  was  no  danger  that  their  wives 
or  children  would  suffer  from  hunger;  and  they  knew 
also  that  at  the  end  of  the  journey,  when  we  brought 
them  back  to  their  homes,  I  would  turn  over  to  them 
the  remaining  supplies  and  equipment  of  the  expedi- 
tion, which  would  ensure  living  for  another  year  in 
absolute  plenty,  that,  in  comparison  with  the  other 
members  of  their  tribe,  they  would  indeed  be  multi- 
millionaires. 

An  intense  and  restless  curiosity  is  one  of  the 
peculiar  characteristics  of  these  people.  As  an  illus- 
tration, one  winter,  years  ago,  when  Mrs.  Peary  was  in 
Greenland  with  me,  an  old  woman  of  the  tribe  walked 
a  hundred  miles  from  her  village  to  our  winter  quar- 
ters in  order  that  she  might  see  a  white  woman. 


46  THENORTHPOLE 

It  may  perhaps  be  fairly  said  that  it  has  been  my 
fortune  to  utilize  the  Eskimos  for  the  purpose  of  dis- 
covery to  a  degree  equaled  by  no  other  explorer,  and 
for  that  reason  it  may  not  seem  amiss  to  suspend  the 
general  narrative  long  enough  to  give  a  little  information 
regarding  their  characteristics,  the  more  so  as  without 
some  knowledge  of  these  peculiar  people  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  any  one  really  to  understand  the  workings 
of  my  expedition  to  the  North  Pole.  It  has  been  a 
fundamental  principle  of  all  my  arctic  work  to  utilize 
the  Eskimos  for  the  rank  and  file  of  my  sledge  parties. 
Without  the  skilful  handiwork  of  the  women  we  should 
lack  the  warm  fur  clothing  which  is  absolutely  essential 
to  protect  us  from  the  winter  cold,  while  the  Eskimo 
dog  is  the  only  tractive  force  suitable  for  serious  arctic 
sledge  work. 

The  members  of  this  little  tribe  or  family,  inhabit- 
ing the  western  coast  of  Greenland  from  Cape  York  to 
Etah,are  in  many  ways  quite  different  from  the  Eskimos 
of  Danish  Greenland,  or  those  of  any  other  arctic 
territory.  There  are  now  between  two  hundred  and 
twenty  and  two  hundred  and  thirty  in  the  tribe.  They 
are  savages,  but  they  are  not  savage;  they  are  without 
government,  but  they  are  not  lawless;  they  are  utterly 
uneducated  according  to  our  standard,  yet  they  exhibit 
a  remarkable  degree  of  intelligence.  In  temperament 
like  children,  with  all  a  child's  delight  in  little  things, 
they  are  nevertheless  enduring  as  the  most  mature  of 
civilized  men  and  women,  and  the  best  of  them  are 
faithful  unto  death.  Without  religion  and  having  no 
idea  of  God,  they  will  share  their  last  meal  with  any  one 
who  is  hungry,  while  the  aged  and  the  helpless  among 


WELCOME   FROM   ESKIMOS      47 

them  are  taken  care  of  as  a  matter  of  course.  They  are 
healthy  and  pure-blooded;  they  have  no  vices,  no  in- 
toxicants, and  no  bad  habits  —  not  even  gambling. 
Altogether,  they  are  a  people  unique  upon  the  face  of 
the  earth.  A  friend  of  mine  well  calls  them  the  philo- 
sophic anarchists  of  the  North. 

I  have  been  studying  the  Eskimos  for  eighteen  years 
and  no  more  effective  instruments  for  arctic  work  could 
be  imagined  than  these  plump,  bronze-skinned,  keen- 
eyed  and  black-maned  children  of  nature.  Their  very 
limitations  are  their  most  valuable  endowments  for 
the  purposes  of  arctic  work.  I  have  a  sincere  interest 
in  these  people,  aside  from  their  usefulness  to  me;  and 
my  plan  from  the  beginning  has  been  to  give  them  such 
aid  and  instruction  as  would  fit  them  more  effectively 
to  cope  with  their  own  austere  environment,  and  to 
refrain  from  teaching  them  anything  which  would 
tend  to  weaken  their  self-confidence  or  to  make  them 
discontented  with  their  lot. 

The  suggestions  of  some  well-meaning  persons  that 
they  be  transported  to  a  more  hospitable  region  would, 
if  carried  out,  cause  their  extermination  in  two  or 
three  generations.  Our  variable  climate  they  could  not 
endure,  as  they  are  keenly  susceptible  to  pulmonary 
and  bronchial  affections.  Our  civilization,  too,  would 
only  soften  and  corrupt  them,  as  their  racial  inheritance 
is  one  of  physical  hardship;  while  to  our  complex  en- 
vironment they  could  not  adjust  themselves  without 
losing  the  very  childlike  qualities  which  constitute  their 
chief  virtues.  To  Christianize  them  would  be  quite 
impossible;  but  the  cardinal  graces  of  faith,  hope,  and 
charity  they  seem  to  have  already,  for  without  them 


48  THENORTHPOLE 

they  could  never  survive  the  six-months'  night  and 
the  many  rigors  of  their  home. 

Their  feeling  for  me  is  a  blending  of  gratitude  and 
confidence.  To  understand  what  my  gifts  have  meant 
to  them,  imagine  a  philanthropic  millionaire  descend- 
ing upon  an  American  country  town  and  offering  every 
man  there  a  brownstone  mansion  and  an  unlimited 
bank  account.  But  even  this  comparison  falls  short 
of  the  reality,  for  in  the  United  States  even  the  poorest 
boy  knows  that  there  is  a  possibility  of  his  attaining 
for  himself  those  things  on  which  he  sets  his  heart,  if  he 
will  labor  and  endure,  while  to  the  Eskimos  the  things 
which  I  have  given  them  are  absolutely  out  of  their 
world,  as  far  beyond  their  own  unaided  efforts  as  the 
moon  and  Mars  are  beyond  the  dwellers  on  this 
planet. 

My  various  expeditions  into  that  region  have  had 
the  effect  of  raising  the  Eskimos  from  the  most  abject 
destitution,  lacking  every  appliance  and  accessory  of 
civilized  life,  to  a  position  of  relative  affluence,  with  the 
best  material  for  their  weapons,  their  harpoons  and 
lances,  the  best  of  wood  for  their  sledges,  the  best  of 
cutlery,  knives,  hatchets,  and  saws  for  their  work,  and 
the  cooking  utensils  of  civilization.  Formerly  they  were 
dependent  upon  the  most  primitive  hunting  weapons; 
now  they  have  repeating  rifles,  breech-loading  shotguns, 
and  an  abundance  of  ammunition.  There  was  not  a 
rifle  in  the  tribe  when  I  first  went  there.  As  they  have 
no  vegetables,  and  live  solely  on  meat,  blood,  and  blub- 
ber, the  possession  of  guns  and  ammunition  has 
increased  the  food-producing  capacity  of  every  hunter, 
and  relieved  the  whole  tribe  from  the  formerly  ever- 


WELCOME    FROM   ESKIMOS       49 

present  danger  of  starvation  for  a  family,  or  even  an 
entire  village. 

There  is  a  theory,  first  advanced  by  Sir  Clements 
Markham,  ex-president  of  the  Royal  Geographical  So- 
ciety of  London,  that  the  Eskimos  are  the  remnants  of 
an  ancient  Siberian  tribe,  the  Onkilon ;  that  the  last  mem- 
bers of  this  tribe  were  driven  out  on  the  Arctic  Ocean 
by  the  fierce  waves  of  Tartar  invasion  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  that  they  found  their  way  to  the  New  Sibe- 
rian Islands,  thence  eastward  over  lands  yet  undis- 
covered to  Grinnell  Land  and  Greenland.  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  in  the  truth  of  this  theory  for  the  following 
reasons: 

Some  of  the  Eskimos  are  of  a  distinctly  Mongolian 
type,  and  they  display  many  Oriental  characteristics, 
such  as  mimicry,  ingenuity,  and  patience  in  mechanical 
duplication.  There  is  a  strong  resemblance  between 
their  stone  houses  and  the  ruins  of  the  houses  found  in 
Siberia.  The  Eskimo  girl  brought  home  by  Mrs.  Peary, 
in  1894,  was  mistaken  by  Chinamen  for  one  of  their 
own  people.  It  has  also  been  suggested  that  their 
invocation  of  the  spirits  of  their  dead  may  be  a  survival 
of  Asian  ancestor  worship. 

As  a  general  rule  the  Eskimos  are  short  in  stature, 
as  are  the  Chinese  and  Japanese,  though  I  could  name 
several  men  who  stand  about  five  feet  ten  inches.  The 
women  are  short  and  plump.  They  all  have  powerful 
torsos,  but  their  legs  are  rather  slender.  The  muscular 
development  of  the  men  is  astonishing,  though  their 
fatty  roundness  hides  the  differentiation  of  the  muscles. 

These  people  have  no  written  speech,  and  their 
language  is  agglutinative,  with  complicated  prefixes  and 


50  THENORTHPOLE 

suflBxes,  by  which  they  extend  a  word  to  a  considerable 
length  from  the  original  stem.  The  language  is  rela- 
tively easy  to  acquire,  and  during  my  first  summer  in 
Greenland  I  gained  a  fair  knowledge  of  it.  In  addition 
to  their  ordinary  speech,  they  have  an  esoteric  language 
known  only  to  the  adults  of  the  tribe.  I  cannot  say 
wherein  it  differs  from  the  other,  having  made  no 
attempt  to  learn  it,  and  I  doubt  if  any  white  man  has 
been  fully  taught  this  secret  speech,  as  the  knowledge 
is  carefully  guarded  by  its  possessors. 

The  Eskimos  of  this  region  have  not,  as  a  rule, 
applied  themselves  to  the  study  of  English,  for  they 
were  clever  enough  to  see  that  we  could  learn  their 
language  more  easily  than  they  could  learn  ours. 
Occasionally,  however,  an  Eskimo  will  startle  all  hands 
by  rolling  out  an  English  phrase  or  sentence,  and,  like 
a  parrot,  he  seems  to  have  a  special  aptitude  in  picking 
up  from  the  sailors  phrases  of  slang  or  profanity. 

On  the  whole,  these  people  are  much  like  children, 
and  should  be  treated  as  such.  They  are  easily  elated, 
easily  discouraged.  They  delight  in  playing  tricks  on 
each  other  and  on  the  sailors,  are  usually  good-natured, 
and  when  they  are  sulky  there  is  no  profit  in  being 
vexed  with  them.  The  methods  which  children  char- 
acterize as  "jollying"  are  best  for  such  emergencies. 
Their  mercurial  temperament  is  Nature's  provision  for 
carrying  them  through  the  long  dark  night,  for  if  they 
were  morose  like  the  North  American  Indians,  the 
whole  tribe  would  long  ago  have  lain  down  and  died 
of  discouragement,  so  rigorous  is  their  lot. 

In  managing  the  Eskimos  it  is  necessary  to  make 
a  psychological  study  of  them,  and  to  consider  their 


WELCOME    FROM   ESKIMOS      51 

peculiar  temperament.  They  are  keenly  appreciative 
of  kindness,  but,  like  children,  they  will  impose  upon 
a  weak  or  vacillating  person.  A  blending  of  gentleness 
and  firmness  is  the  only  effective  method.  The  funda- 
mental point  in  all  my  dealings  with  them  has  been 
always  to  mean  just  what  I  say  and  to  have  things  done 
exactly  as  ordered.  For  instance,  if  I  tell  an  Eskimo 
that  if  he  does  a  certain  thing  properly  he  will  get  a 
certain  reward,  he  always  gets  the  reward  if  he  obeys. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  I  tell  him  that  a  certain  unde- 
sirable thing  will  happen  if  he  follows  a  course  I  have 
forbidden,  that  thing  invariably  happens. 

I  have  made  it  to  their  interest  to  do  what  I  want 
done.  For  example,  the  best  all-round  man  on  a  long 
sledge  journey  got  more  than  the  others.  A  record  was 
always  kept  of  the  game  secured  by  each  Eskimo,  and 
the  best  hunter  got  a  special  prize.  Thus  I  kept  them 
interested  in  their  work.  The  man  who  killed  the 
musk  ox  with  the  finest  set  of  horns  and  the  man  who 
killed  the  deer  with  the  most  magnificent  antlers  were 
specially  rewarded.  I  have  made  it  a  point  to  be  firm 
with  them,  but  to  rule  them  by  love  and  gratitude 
rather  than  by  fear  and  threats.  An  Eskimo,  like  an 
Indian,  never  forgets  a  broken  promise  —  nor  a  ful- 
filled one. 

It  would  be  misleading  to  infer  that  almost  any 
man  who  went  to  the  Eskimos  with  gifts  could  obtain 
from  them  the  kind  of  service  they  have  given  me; 
for  it  must  be  remembered  that  they  have  known  me 
personally  for  nearly  twenty  years.  I  have  saved 
whole  villages  from  starvation,  and  the  children  are 
taught   by  their   parents  that  if  they  grow  up  and 


52  THENORTHPOLE 

become  good  hunters  or  good  seamstresses,  as  the  case 
may  be,  "  Peary aksoah  "  will  reward  them  sometime  in 
the  not  too  distant  future.  Old  Ikwah,  for  example, 
who  is  the  father  of  the  girl  for  whose  possession  hot- 
hearted  young  Ooqueah  of  my  North  Pole  party 
fought  his  way  with  me  to  the  goal,  was  the  first 
Eskimo  I  had,  away  back  in  1891. 

This  young  knight  of  the  Northland  is  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  fact  that  sometimes  an  Eskimo  man  or 
woman  may  be  as  intense  in  his  or  her  affairs  of  the 
heart  as  we  are.  As  a  rule,  however,  they  are  more 
like  children  in  their  affections,  faithful  to  their  mates 
from  a  sort  of  domestic  habit,  but  easily  consoled  for 
the  loss  of  them  by  death  or  otherwise. 


THE   ICK   CLIFFS   OF   HUBBAKD    GLACIEK 


'M\^.    t 


I'EARY   DISTRIBUTING   UTKXSILS   TO   WIVES   OF   HIS    HUNTKHS   AT   ETAH 


DECK  SCENE  ON  THE  ROOSEVELT 


CHAPTER  VI 


AN   ARCTIC   OASIS 


IN  a  little  arctic  oasis  lives  the  meager  and  scat- 
tered handful  of  the  Eskimo  population  —  a 
little  oasis  along  the  frowning  western  coast  of 
Northern  Greenland  between  Melville  Bay  and  Kane 
Basin.  This  region  is  three  thousand  miles  north  of  New 
York  City,  as  a  steamer  goes;  it  lies  about  half  way  be- 
tween the  Arctic  Circle  and  the  Pole,  within  the  confines 
of  the  great  night.  Here,  taking  the  mean  latitude, 
for  one  hundred  and  ten  days  in  summer  the  sun  never 
sets;  for  one  hundred  and  ten  days  in  winter  the  sun 
never  rises,  and  no  ray  of  light  save  from  the  icy  stars 
and  the  dead  moon  falls  on  the  frozen  landscape. 

There  is  a  savage  grandeur  in  this  coast,  carved 
by  eternal  conflict  with  storms  and  glaciers,  bergs 
and  grinding  ice-fields;  but  behind  the  frowning  outer 
mask  nestle  in  summer  many  grass-carpeted,  flower- 
sprinkled,  sun-kissed  nooks.  Millions  of  little  auks 
breed  along  this  shore.  Between  the  towering  cliffs 
are  glaciers  which  launch  at  intervals  their  fleets  of 
bergs  upon  the  sea;  before  these  cliffs  lies  the  blue 
water  dotted  with  masses  of  glistening  ice  of  all  shapes 
and  sizes;  behind  the  cliffs  is  the  great  Greenland  ice 
cap,  silent,  eternal,  immeasurable  —  the  abode,  say 
the  Eskimos,  of  evil  spirits  and  the  souls  of  the 
unhappy  dead. 

B3 


54  THENORTHPOLE 

In  some  places  on  this  coast  in  summer,  the  grass 
is  as  thick  and  long  as  on  a  New  England  farm.  Here 
bloom  poppies,  with  dandelions,  buttercups,  and  saxi- 
frage, though  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  the  flowers 
are  all  devoid  of  perfume.  I  have  seen  bumblebees 
even  north  of  Whale  Sound;  there  are  flies  and  mos- 
quitoes, and  even  a  few  spiders.  Among  the  fauna 
of  this  country  are  the  reindeer  (the  Greenland  car- 
ibou), the  fox  —  both  blue  and  white  —  the  arctic 
hare,  the  Polar  bear,  and  perhaps  once  in  a  generation 
a  stray  wolf. 

But  in  the  long  sunless  winter  this  whole  region 
—  cliffs,  ocean,  glaciers  —  is  covered  with  a  pall  of 
snow  that  shows  a  ghastly  gray  in  the  wan  starlight. 
When  the  stars  are  hidden,  all  is  black,  void,  and 
soundless.  When  the  wind  is  blowing,  if  a  man  ven- 
tures out  he  seems  to  be  pushed  backward  by  the  hands 
of  an  invisible  enemy,  while  a  vague,  unnamable 
menace  lurks  before  and  behind  him.  It  is  small 
wonder  the  Eskimos  believe  that  evil  spirits  walk 
upon  the  wind. 

During  the  winter  these  patient  and  cheerful 
children  of  the  North  live  in  igloos,  or  huts,  built 
of  stones  and  earth.  It  is  only  when  they  are  trav- 
eling, as  sometimes  during  the  moonlit  period  of  the 
month,  that  they  live  in  the  snow  igloos,  which  three 
good  Eskimos  can  build  in  an  hour  or  two,  and  which 
we  built  at  the  end  of  every  day's  march  on  our  sledge 
journey  to  the  Pole.  In  summer  they  live  in  the  tupiks, 
or  skin  tents.  The  stone  houses  are  permanent,  and 
a  good  one  will  last  perhaps  a  hundred  years,  with  a 
little   repairing   of   the   roof   in   summer.     Igloos   are 


AN   ARCTIC    OASIS  55 

found  in  groups,  or  villages,  at  intervals  along  the 
coast  from  Cape  York  Bay  to  Anoratok.  As  the  people 
are  nomadic,  these  permanent  dwellings  belong  to 
the  tribe,  and  not  to  individuals,  constituting  thus  a 
crude  sort  of  arctic  socialism.  One  year  all  the  houses 
in  a  settlement  may  be  occupied;  the  next  year  none, 
or  only  one  or  two. 

These  houses  are  about  six  feet  high  by  eight  to 
ten  feet  wide  by  ten  to  twelve  feet  long,  and  one 
may  be  constructed  in  a  month.  An  excavation  is 
made  in  the  earth,  which  forms  the  floor  of  the  house; 
then  the  walls  are  built  up  solidly  with  stones  chinked 
with  moss;  long,  flat  stones  are  laid  across  the  top  of 
the  walls;  this  roof  is  covered  with  earth,  and  the  whole 
house  is  banked  in  with  snow.  The  construction  of 
the  arched  roof  is  on  the  plan  which  engineers  know 
as  the  cantilever,  and  not  that  of  the  Roman  arch. 
The  long,  flat  stones  which  form  the  roof  are  weighted 
and  counter-weighted  at  the  outer  ends,  and  in  all 
my  arctic  experience  I  have  never  known  the  stone 
roof  of  an  igloo  to  fall  upon  the  inmates.  There  are 
never  any  complaints  made  to  the  Building  Depart- 
ment. There  is  no  door  in  the  side,  but  a  hole  in  the 
floor  at  the  entrance  leads  to  a  tunnel,  sometimes  ten, 
sometimes  fifteen,  or  even  twenty-five,  feet  in  length, 
through  which  the  tenants  crawl  into  their  home.  There 
is  always  a  small  window  in  the  front  of  the  igloo. 
The  window  space  is  not  glazed,  of  course,  but  is  covered 
with  the  thin,  intestinal  membrane  of  seals,  skilfully 
seamed  together.  To  a  traveler  across  the  dark  and 
snowy  winter  waste,  the  yellow  light  from  the  interior 
lamp  is  visible,  sometimes,  a  long  distance  away. 


56  THENORTHPOLE 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  igloo  is  the  bed  platform, 
raised  about  a  foot  and  a  half  above  the  earthen 
floor.  Usually  this  platform  is  not  built,  but  is  the 
natural  level  of  the  earth,  the  standing  space  being 
dug  before  it.  In  some  houses,  however,  the  bed  plat- 
form is  made  of  long,  flat  stones  raised  upon  stone 
supports.  When  the  Eskimos  are  ready  to  move  into 
the  stone  houses  in  the  fall,  they  cover  the  bed  platform 
first  with  grass,  which  they  bring  in  by  the  sledge- 
load;  the  grass  is  then  covered  with  sealskins;  above 
these  are  spread  deerskins,  or  musk-ox  skins,  —  which 
form  the  mattress.  Deerskins  are  used  for  blankets. 
Pajamas  are  not  in  fashion  with  the  Eskimos.  They 
simply  remove  all  their  clothes  and  crawl  in  between 
the  deerskins. 

The  lamp,  which  stands  on  a  large  stone  at  the 
front  of  the  bed  platform  on  one  side,  is  kept  burning 
all  the  time,  whether  the  family  is  asleep  or  awake. 
An  imaginative  person  might  liken  this  lamp  to  an 
ever-burning  sacred  flame  upon  the  stone  altar  of  the 
Eskimo  home.  It  serves  also  as  a  stove  for  heating 
and  cooking,  and  makes  the  igloo  so  warm  that  the 
inhabitants  wear  little  clothing  when  indoors.  They 
sleep  with  their  heads  toward  the  lamp,  so  the  woman 
may  reach  out  and  tend  it. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  house  food  is  generally 
stored.  When  two  families  occupy  one  igloo,  there 
may  be  a  second  lamp  on  the  other  side;  and  in  that 
case  the  food  must  be  stored  under  the  bed.  The 
temperature  of  these  houses  varies  from  eighty  or  ninety 
degrees  Fahrenheit,  on  the  bed  platform  and  near  the 
roof,  to  something  below  freezing  point  at   the  floor 


AN   ARCTIC    OASIS  57 

level.  There  is  a  little  air-hole  in  the  center  of  the 
roof,  but  in  the  happy  home  of  an  Eskimo  family,  in 
winter,  the  atmosphere  could  almost  be  handled  with 
a  shovel. 

Often,  in  winter  traveling,  I  have  been  obliged 
to  sleep  in  one  of  these  hospitable  igloos.  On  such 
occasions  I  have  made  the  best  of  things,  as  a  man 
would  if  compelled  to  sleep  in  a  tenth-rate  railroad 
hotel  or  a  slum  lodging-house,  but  I  have  tried  to  for- 
get the  experience  as  soon  as  possible.  It  is  not  well 
for  an  arctic  explorer  to  be  too  fastidious.  A  night 
in  one  of  these  igloos,  with  the  family  at  home,  is  an 
offense  to  every  civilized  sense,  especially  that  of 
smell;  but  there  are  times  when  a  man,  after  a  long 
sledge  journey  in  the  terrible  cold  and  wind,  hungry 
and  footsore,  will  welcome  the  dim  light  shining  through 
the  translucent  window  of  an  igloo  as  one  welcomes 
the  light  of  home.  It  means  warmth  and  comfort, 
supper,  and  blessed  sleep. 

There  is  no  blinking  the  fact  that  my  Eskimo 
friends  are  very  dirty.  When  I  have  them  on  the 
ship  with  me  they  make  heroic  efforts  to  wash  them- 
selves occasionally;  but  in  their  own  homes  they 
practically  never  do,  and  in  winter  they  have  no 
water  except  from  melted  snow.  On  rare  occasions, 
when  the  dirt  gets  too  thick  for  comfort,  they  may 
remove  the  outer  layer  with  a  little  oil.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  amazement  with  which  they  made  acquaint- 
ance with  the  white  man's  use  of  the  tooth-brush. 

With  the  coming  of  the  summer,  the  stone  and 
earth  houses  become  damp,  dark  holes,  and  the  roofs 
are  taken  off  to  dry  and  ventilate  the  interior.     The 


58  THENORTHPOLE 

family  then  moves  outside  and  sets  up  the  tupik,  or 
skin  tent,  which  is  their  home  from  about  the  first  of 
June  till  some  time  in  September.  The  tupik  is  made 
of  sealskins,  with  the  hair  on  the  inside.  Teh  or  twelve 
skins,  sewed  together  in  one  large  piece,  make  a  tent. 
It  is  stretched  on  poles,  high  in  front  and  sloping 
toward  the  back,  thus  offering  the  least  possible 
resistance  to  the  wind,  the  edges  held  down  with  stones. 
The  earth  floor  of  these  tents  is  six  or  eight  feet  wide 
and  eight  or  ten  feet  long,  according  to  the  size  of 
the  family. 

In  recent  years  my  Eskimos  have  adopted  an  im- 
provement upon  the  building  customs  of  the  west 
coast  natives,  and  many  of  them  have  an  entrance 
extension  to  their  tents  made  of  transparent  tanned 
sealskins,  thick  enough  to  keep  out  the  rain  but  not 
the  light.  This  adds  to  the  roominess  and  comfort 
of  their  summer  dwellings.  A  usual  practice  among 
the  better  class  of  Eskimos  is  to  use  the  old  tupik 
of  the  previous  summer  for  a  rain  or  weather-guard 
to  the  new  tent.  In  heavy  winds  or  heavy  summer 
rains,  the  old  tupik  is  simply  spread  over  the  new  one, 
thus  giving  a  double  thickness  and  protection  to  the 
owners. 

The  bed  platform  in  the  tupik  is  now  generally 
made  of  lumber,  which  I  have  furnished,  raised  on 
stones,  and  in  pleasant  weather  the  cooking  is  done 
outside.  Oil  is  the  only  fuel  for  heat,  light,  and  cook- 
ing. The  Eskimo  women  trim  the  lamps  so  well 
that  there  is  no  smoke  from  them,  unless  there  is  a 
draft  in  the  tent  or  igloo.  They  cut  small  pieces 
of  blubber,  which  they  lay  on  moss  and  ignite,  and  the 


AN   ARCTIC   OASIS  59 

heat  from  the  moss  tries  out  the  oil,  making  a 
surprisingly  hot  flame.  Until  I  gave  them  matches, 
they  had  only  the  primitive  means  of  ignition  by  flint 
and  steel,  which  they  obtained  from  a  vein  of  pyrites. 
When  I  first  went  up  there,  all  their  lamps  and  rect- 
angular pots  were  made  of  soapstone,  two  or  three 
veins  of  which  are  found  in  that  country.  Their 
ability  to  utilize  the  soapstone  and  pyrites  is  an  illus- 
tration of  their  intelligence  and  ingenuity. 

As  a  rule  little  clothing  is  worn  in  the  tupiks  in 
warm  weather,  as  the  normal  summer  temperature  is 
around  fifty  degrees  Fahrenheit,  and  in  the  strong 
sunlight  may  go  as  high  as  eighty-five  or  even  ninety- 
five. 

The  trial  marriage  is  an  ineradicable  custom  among 
the  Eskimos.  If  a  young  man  and  woman  are  not 
suited  with  each  other,  they  try  again,  and  sometimes 
several  times;  but  when  they  find  mates  to  whom  they 
are  adapted,  the  arrangement  is  generally  permanent. 
If  two  men  want  to  marry  the  same  woman,  they  settle 
the  question  by  a  trial  of  strength,  and  the  better  man 
has  his  way.  These  struggles  are  not  fights,  as  the 
disputants  are  amiable;  they  are  simply  tests  of  wres- 
tling, or  sometimes  of  pounding  each  other  on  the  arm 
to  see  which  man  can  stand  the  pounding  the  longer. 

Their  fundamental  acceptance  of  the  proposition 
that  might  is  right  in  such  matters  sometimes  extends 
to  a  man  saying  to  the  husband  of  a  woman:  "I  am 
the  better  man. "  In  such  case  the  husband  has  either 
to  prove  his  superiority  in  strength,  or  yield  the  woman 
to  the  other.  If  a  man  grows  tired  of  his  wife,  he 
simply  tells  her  there  is  not  room  for  her  in  his  igloo. 


60  THENORTHPOLE 

She  may  return  to  her  parents,  if  they  are  living;  she 
may  go  to  a  brother  or  a  sister;  or  she  may  send  word 
to  some  man  in  the  tribe  that  she  is  now  at  liberty  and 
is  wiUing  to  start  life  again.  In  these  cases  of  primi- 
tive divorce,  the  husband  keeps  one  or  all  of  the  chil- 
dren if  he  wants  them;  if  not,  the  woman  takes  them 
with  her. 

The  Eskimos  do  not  have  many  children,  two  or 
three  being  the  usual  number.  The  woman  does  not 
take  her  husband's  name  in  any  case.  Akatingwah, 
for  instance,  will  remain  Akatingwah,  whether  she 
has  had  one  husband  or  several.  Children  do  not 
address  their  parents  as  father  and  mother,  but  call 
them  by  their  names,  though  sometimes  very  small 
children  use  a  diminutive  which  corresponds  to  our 
"mamma." 

Among  the  Eskimos  the  woman  is  as  much  a  part 
of  the  man's  property  as  his  dog  or  sledge  —  except 
in  some  rare  cases.  The  cause  of  the  suffragettes 
has  as  yet  made  little  headway  in  this  region.  I 
remember  one  instance  in  which  an  Eskimo  woman  had 
a  difference  of  opinion  with  her  husband,  and  proved  iM 
her  right  to  independence  by  blackening  the  old  man's 
eye;  but  I  am  afraid  that  the  more  conservative 
members  of  the  tribe  attributed  this  unfeminine 
behavior  to  the  corrupting  influence  of  contact  with 
civilization. 

As  there  are  more  men  than  women  among  the 
Eskimos,  the  girls  marry  very  young,  often  about  the 
age  of  twelve.  In  many  cases  the  marriages  are 
arranged  between  the  parents  when  the  children  are 
quite  young;  but  the  boy  and  girl  are  not  bound,  and 


m 


ESKIMO  MOTHER  AND  CHILD 


AN   ARCTIC   OASIS  61 

when  they  are  old  enough  they  are  permitted  to  decide 
for  themselves.  In  fact,  they  can  make  several  such 
decisions  without  losing  caste.  On  the  last  expedition, 
as  on  those  of  former  years,  I  found  that  a  number 
of  matrimonial  changes  had  taken  place  among  my 
Northern  friends  since  I  was  last  among  them. 

It  would  be  worse  than  useless  to  attempt  to  en- 
graft our  marriage  customs  upon  these  naive  children 
of  Nature.  Should  an  arctic  explorer  consider  it 
his  duty  to  tell  a  young  Eskimo  that  it  was  not  right 
for  him  to  exchange  wives  with  his  friend,  it  would  be 
well  for  the  explorer  to  have  his  supporting  argument 
well  prepared  beforehand,  for  the  censured  one  would 
probably  open  wide  his  eyes  and  inquire,  "Why 
not?" 

These  people  of  the  ice-land,  like  all  intelligent 
savages,  are  remarkably  curious.  If  confronted,  say, 
with  a  package  containing  various  supplies  unknown 
to  them,  they  will  not  rest  until  they  have  examined 
every  article  of  the  lot,  touched  it,  turned  it  over, 
and  even  tasted  it,  chattering  all  the  while  like  a  flock 
of  blackbirds.  They  exhibit,  too,  in  marked  degree, 
all  the  Oriental  capacity  for  imitation.  Out  of  wal- 
rus ivory,  in  some  respects  their  substitute  for  steel, 
—  and  a  surprisingly  good  substitute  it  is,  —  they  will 
construct  amazingly  good  models  or  copies  of  various 
objects,  while  it  does  not  take  them  long  to  master 
the  use  of  such  tools  of  civilization  as  may  be  put  into 
their  hands.  It  will  easily  be  seen  how  valuable 
and  useful  a  quality  this  has  proved  for  the  purposes 
of  the  arctic  explorer.  If  he  could  not  rely  on  the 
Eskimo  to  do  the  white  man's  work  with  the  white 


62  THENORTHPOLE 

man's  tools,  the  labors  of  the  arctic  traveler  would 
be  tremendously  increased  and  the  size  of  his  expedi- 
tion would  have  to  be  enlarged  to  limits  that  might 
be  foimd  unwieldy  in  the  extreme. 

My  own  observations  of  this  interesting  people 
have  taught  me  to  repose  no  confidence  whatever  in 
the  tales  of  barbaric  craft  and  cruelty  which  I  have 
heard  of  them.  On  the  contrary,  taking  into  consider- 
ation their  uncivilized  state,  they  must  be  ranked 
as  a  humane  people.  Moreover,  they  have  always 
been  quick  to  grasp  the  purposes  that  I  have  had  in 
view  and  to  bend  their  energies  toward  achieving  the 
ends  for  which  my  expeditions  have  been  striving. 

Their  humanity,  as  has  been  indicated,  takes  a 
form  that  would  delight  a  socialist.  They  are  generous 
and  hospitable  in  a  crude  way,  almost  without  excep- 
tion. As  a  general  rule,  good  and  bad  fortune  are 
shared.  The  tribe  shares  in  the  proceeds  of  good  luck 
on  the  part  of  the  hunters  and,  as  their  existence 
depends  on  hunting,  this  accounts  in  large  measure 
for  the  preservation  of  the  tribe. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ODD  CUSTOMS  OF  AN  ODD  PEOPLE 

HARD  as  is  the  life  of  the  Eskimo,  his  end  is 
usually  as  rigorous.  All  his  life  he  is  engaged 
in  constant  warfare  with  the  inhospitable  ele- 
ments of  his  country,  and  Death,  when  it  arrives, 
usually  comes  in  some  violent  form.  Old  age  has  few 
terrors  for  the  Eskimo,  for  he  seldom  lives  to  reach  it. 
He  dies,  as  a  rule,  in  harness,  drowned  by  the  capsiz- 
ing of  his  skin  canoe,  caught  by  the  overturning  of  an 
iceberg,  or  crushed  by  a  snow-slide  or  a  rock-slide.  It 
is  seldom  that  an  Eskimo  lives  to  be  more  than  sixty 
years  of  age. 

Strictly  speaking,  the  Eskimos  have  no  religion,  in 
the  sense  in  which  we  use  the  word.  But  they  believe 
in  the  survival  of  the  person  after  death,  and  they 
believe  in  spirits  —  especially  evil  spirits.  It  may  be 
that  their  lack  of  any  idea  of  a  beneficent  God,  and 
their  intense  consciousness  of  evil  influences,  result 
from  the  terrible  hardships  of  their  lives.  Having 
no  special  blessings  for  which  to  be  grateful  to  a  kind 
Creator,  they  have  not  evolved  a  conception  of  Him, 
while  the  constantly  recurring  menaces  of  the  dark, 
the  bitter  cold,  the  savage  wind  and  gnawing  hunger, 
have  led  them  to  people  the  air  with  invisible  enemies. 
The  beneficent  spirits  are  those  of  their  ancestors 
(another  Oriental  touch),  while  they  have  a  whole  legion 

63 


64  THENORTHPOLE 

of  malevolent  spirits,  led  by  Tornarsuk,  the  great 
devil  himself. 

They  are  constantly  trying  to  propitiate  Tornarsuk 
by  incantations;  and  when  they  kill  game,  an  offer- 
ing is  made  to  him.  The  devil  is  supposed  to  have  a 
keen  appeciation  of  these  tidbits.  On  leaving  a  snow 
igloo  the  Eskimos  are  careful  to  kick  the  front  out 
of  it,  that  the  evil  spirits  may  not  find  shelter  there, 
and  when  they  throw  away  a  worn-out  garment  it  is 
never  left  intact,  but  is  torn  in  such  a  way  that  the 
devil  may  not  use  it  to  warm  himself.  A  comfortable 
devil  is  presumably  more  dangerous  than  a  shiver- 
ing one.  Any  sudden  and  unexplained  barking  or  howl- 
ing among  the  dogs  indicates  the  invisible  presence  of 
Tornarsuk,  and  the  men  will  run  out  and  crack 
their  whips  or  fire  their  rifles  to  scare  away  the 
invader.  When,  on  board  the  Roosevelt  in  winter 
quarters,  I  was  suddenly  aroused  from  sleep  by  the 
crack  of  rifles,  I  did  not  think  there  was  a  mutiny 
aboard  —  only  that  Tornarsuk  had  ridden  by  upon 
the  wind. 

When  the  ice  presses  hard  against  the  ship,  an 
Eskimo  will  call  on  his  dead  father  to  push  it  away; 
when  the  wind  blows  with  special  violence,  ancestors 
are  again  appealed  to.  Passing  along  a  cliff,  on  a  sledge 
journey,  a  man  will  sometimes  stop  and  listen  and  then 
say:  "Did  you  hear  what  the  devil  said  just  then?" 
I  have  asked  the  Eskimo  to  repeat  to  me  the  words  of 
Tornarsuk,  up  there  on  the  cliff,  and  I  would  not  dream 
of  laughing  at  my  faithful  friends  at  such  a  time;  the 
messages  of  Tornarsuk  I  receive  with  a  respectful 
gravity. 


ODD    CUSTOMS  65 

There  are  no  chiefs  among  these  people,  no  men  in 
authority;  but  there  are  medicine  men  who  have  some 
influence.  The  angakok  is  generally  not  loved  —  he 
knows  too  many  unpleasant  things  that  are  going  to 
happen,  so  he  says.  The  business  of  the  angakok  is 
mainly  singing  incantations  and  going  into  trances, 
for  he  has  no  medicines.  If  a  person  is  sick,  he  may 
prescribe  abstinence  from  certain  foods  for  a  certain 
number  of  moons;  for  instance,  the  patient  must  not 
eat  seal  meat,  or  deer  meat,  but  only  the  flesh  of  the 
walrus.  Monotonous  incantations  take  the  place  of  the 
white  man's  drugs.  The  performance  of  a  self-confident 
angakok  is  quite  impressive  —  if  one  has  not  witnessed 
it  too  many  times  before.  The  chanting,  or  howling, 
is  accompanied  by  contortions  of  the  body  and  by 
sounds  from  a  rude  tambourine,  made  from  the  throat 
membrane  of  a  walrus  stretched  on  a  bow  of  ivory  or 
bone.  The  tapping  of  the  rim  with  another  piece  of 
ivory  or  bone  marks  the  time.  This  is  the  Eskimo's 
only  attempt  at  music.  Some  women  are  supposed  to 
possess  the  power  of  the  angakok  —  a  combination 
of  the  gifts  of  the  fortune  teller,  the  mental  healer,  and 
the  psalmodist,  one  might  say. 

Once,  years  ago,  my  little  brown  people  got  tired  of 
an  angakok,  one  Kyoahpahdo,  who  had  predicted  too 
many  deaths;  and  they  lured  him  out  on  a  hunting 
expedition  from  which  he  never  returned.  But  these 
executions  for  the  peace  of  the  community  are  rare. 

Their  burial  customs  are  rather  interesting.  When 
an  Eskimo  dies,  there  is  no  delay  about  removing  the 
body.  Just  as  soon  as  possible  it  is  wrapped,  fully 
clothed,  in  the  skins  which  formed  the  bed,  and  some 


66  THENORTHPOLE 

extra  garments  are  added  to  insure  the  comfort  of  the 
spirit.  Then  a  strong  line  is  tied  round  the  body,  and 
it  is  removed,  always  head  first,  from  the  tent  or  igloo, 
and  dragged  head  first  over  the  snow  or  ground  to  the 
nearest  place  where  there  are  enough  loose  stones 
to  cover  it.  The  Eskimos  do  not  like  to  touch  a  dead 
body,  and  it  is  therefore  dragged  as  a  sledge  would  be. 
Arrived  at  the  place  selected  for  the  grave,  they  cover 
the  corpse  with  loose  stones,  to  protect  it  from  the 
dogs,  foxes,  and  ravens,  and  the  burial  is  complete. 

According  to  Eskimo  ideas,  the  after-world  is  a 
distinctly  material  place.  If  the  deceased  is  a  hunter, 
his  sledge  and  kayak,  with  his  weapons  and  implements, 
are  placed  close  by,  and  his  favorite  dogs,  harnessed 
and  attached  to  the  sledge,  are  strangled  so  that  they 
may  accompany  him  on  his  journey  into  the  unseen. 
If  the  deceased  is  a  woman,  her  lamp  and  the  little 
wooden  frame  on  which  she  has  dried  the  family  boots 
and  mittens  are  placed  beside  the  grave.  A  little  blub- 
ber is  placed  there,  too,  and  a  few  matches,  if  they  are 
available,  so  that  the  woman  may  light  the  lamp  and 
do  some  cooking  in  transit;  a  cup  or  bowl  is  also  pro- 
vided, in  which  she  may  melt  snow  for  water.  Her 
needle,  thimble,  and  other  sewing  things  are  placed 
with  her  in  the  grave. 

In  former  years,  if  the  woman  had  a  small  baby  in 
the  hood  it  was  strangled  to  keep  her  company;  but  I 
have,  of  course,  discouraged  this  practice,  and  during 
the  last  two  expeditions  I  have  not  heard  of  any 
strangled  babies.  Among  the  members  of  my  own 
party  I  have  simply  forbidden  the  practice,  and  have 
promised  the  relatives  sufiicient  condensed  milk  and 


ODD    CUSTOMS  67 

other  foods  to  keep  the  infant  ahve.  If  they  have 
reverted  to  the  old  custom  during  my  absence,  they 
have  not  mentioned  the  fact  to  me,  knowing  of  my 
disapproval. 

If  a  death  occurs  in  a  tent,  the  poles  are  removed, 
and  the  tent  is  left  on  the  ground  to  rot  or  blow  away. 
It  is  never  used  again.  If  the  death  occurs  in  an  igloo, 
the  structure  is  vacated  and  not  used  again  for  a  long 
time.  The  relatives  of  the  dead  observe  certain  for- 
malities in  regard  to  food  and  clothing,  and  the  name  of 
the  lost  one  is  never  mentioned.  If  any  other  members 
of  the  tribe  have  the  same  name,  they  must  take 
another  until  an  infant  is  born  to  which  the  proscribed 
name  can  be  given.    This  appears  to  remove  the  ban. 

Eskimos  are  children  in  their  grief,  as  in  their 
pleasure;  they  weep  for  a  dead  friend  a  few  days,  then 
they  forget.  Even  a  mother  who  has  been  inconsolable 
at  the  death  of  her  baby  soon  laughs  again  and  thinks 
of  other  things. 

In  a  country  where  the  stars  are  visible  for  so  many 
weeks  at  a  time  it  is  not  strange  perhaps  that  they  re- 
ceive much  attention  from  the  natives.  The  Eskimos 
are,  within  barbaric  limits,  astronomers.  The  prin- 
cipal constellations  visible  in  northern  latitudes  are 
well  known  to  them  and  they  have  given  them  their 
own  names  and  descriptions.  In  the  Great  Dipper 
they  see  a  herd  of  celestial  reindeer.  The  Pleiades  are 
to  the  Eskimos  a  team  of  dogs  pursuing  a  solitary 
polar  bear.  Gemini  they  describe  as  two  stones  in  the 
entrance  of  an  igloo.  The  moon  and  the  sun  represent 
to  the  Eskimo,  as  to  some  of  our  North  American  In- 
dian tribes,  a  fleeing  maiden  and  her  pursuing  admirer. 


68  THENORTHPOLE 

Time  is,  of  course,  of  small  value  to  the  Eskimo, 
so  far  as  he  is  himself  personally  concerned,  yet  after 
the  Eskimo  has  been  trained  to  the  ways  of  the  white 
man  he  seems  to  absorb  an  excellent  notion  of  the  value 
of  punctuality  and  will  carry  out  orders  with  a  sur- 
prising degree  of  promptness  and  despatch. 

The  strength  and  capacity  for  enduring  hardships 
exhibited  by  this  people  is  extraordinary  and  is  not,  I 
believe,  exceeded  by  that  shown  by  any  other  aborig- 
inal race  now  in  existence.  It  is  true  that  the  average 
size  of  the  Eskimo  is,  judged  by  our  own  standards, 
small;  but  I  could  give  the  names  of  several  of  them 
who  stand  five  feet  ten  inches  and  weigh  185  pounds. 
The  popular  idea  that  they  are  clumsily  fashioned  is 
not  correct.  That  notion  is  merely  another  case  of  judg- 
ing a  man  by  the  clothes  he  wears,  and  an  Eskimo's 
garments  are  not  precisely  what  we  should  call  of 
fashionable  cut. 

To  my  mind,  the  skin  canoe  of  these  Northern  abo- 
rigines is,  with  its  hunting  implements,  one  of  the  most 
complete  and  ingenious  manifestations  of  intelligence 
to  be  found  in  any  aboriginal  tribe.  Over  a  light  frame- 
work, an  almost  infinite  number  of  small  pieces  of 
wood  deftly  lashed  together  with  sealskin  thongs,  is 
stretched  the  tanned  skin  of  seals,  the  seams  being 
neatly  sewed  by  the  women,  and  then  rendered  water- 
tight by  an  application  of  seal  oil  and  soot  from  the 
native  lamps.  The  result  is  a  craft  of  great  buoyancy, 
some  grace,  and  especial  fitness  and  effectiveness  for 
the  purposes  for  which  it  is  intended,  that  is,  to  enable 
the  hunter  to  creep  softly  and  noiselessly  upon  seal, 
walrus,  or  white  whale.    This   canoe,   while   varying 


ODD   CUSTOMS  69 

somewhat  with  the  size  of  the  owner  and  maker,  will 
average  between  twenty  and  twenty-four  inches  in 
width  by  sixteen  or  eighteen  feet  in  length.  It  carries 
one  man  only.  I  may  have  helped  the  Eskimos  a  little 
in  perfecting  it,  by  giving  them  more  suitable  material 
for  the  framework,  but  the  canoe  is  original  with 
them. 

It  will  scarcely  be  considered  strange  that  I  have 
grown  to  love  this  childlike,  simple  people,  as  well  as  to 
value  their  many  admirable  and  useful  qualities.  For 
it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  for  nearly  a  quarter  of 
a  century  they  have  been  more  thoroughly  known  to 
me  than  any  other  group  of  human  beings  in  the  world. 
The  present  generation  of  able-bodied  Eskimos  has 
practically  grown  up  under  my  personal  observation. 
Every  individual  member  of  the  tribe  —  man,  woman, 
and  child  —  is  known  to  me  by  name  and  sight  as 
thoroughly  as  the  patients  of  an  old-fashioned  family 
physician  are  known  to  him,  and  perhaps  the  feeling 
existing  between  us  is  not  so  very  different.  And  the 
knowledge  of  individuals  gained  in  this  intimate  way 
has  been  priceless  in  the  work  of  reaching  the  Pole. 

Take,  for  example,  the  quartet  of  young  Eskimos 
who  formed  a  portion  of  the  sledge  party  that  finally 
reached  the  long-courted  "ninety  North."  The  oldest 
of  the  four,  Ootah,  is  about  34  years  of  age.  This  young 
man  is  one  of  the  sturdiest  of  the  tribe.  He  stands 
about  5  feet  8  inches  and  is  a  fine  hunter.  When  I 
first  saw  him  he  was  a  young  boy.  Egingwah,  another 
of  the  group,  is  about  26  years  old,  a  big  chap  weigh- 
ing about  175  pounds.  Seegloo  and  Ooqueah  are 
about  24  and  20  respectively.    All  four  of  them  have 


70  THENORTHPOLE 

been  brought  up  to  regard  me  as  the  patron,  pro- 
tector, and  guide  of  their  people.  Their  capacities, 
pecuHarities,  and  individual  characteristics  were  per- 
fectly known  to  me,  and  they  were  chosen  out  of  the 
whole  tribe  for  the  final  great  effort  because  I  knew 
them  to  be  most  perfectly  adapted  to  the  work  in 
hand. 

Before  taking  up  the  story  of  our  advance  from 
Cape  York,  a  word  ought  to  be  said  about  those 
remarkable  creatures,  the  Eskimo  dogs,  for  without 
their  help  success  could  never  have  crowned  the  efforts 
of  the  expedition.  They  are  sturdy,  magnificent 
animals.  There  may  be  larger  dogs  than  these,  there 
may  be  handsomer  dogs;  but  I  doubt  it.  Other  dogs 
may  work  as  well  or  travel  as  fast  and  far  when  fully 
fed;  but  there  is  no  dog  in  the  world  that  can  work 
so  long  in  the  lowest  temperatures  on  practically  noth- 
ing to  eat.  The  male  dogs  average  in  weight  from  eighty 
to  one  hundred  pounds,  though  I  had  one  which 
weighed  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  pounds.  The 
females  are  somewhat  smaller.  Their  special  physical 
characteristics  are  a  pointed  muzzle,  great  breadth 
between  the  eyes,  sharp-pointed  ears,  very  heavy 
coat  underlaid  with  a  thick,  soft  fur,  powerful,  heavy- 
muscled  legs,  and  a  bushy  tail  or  brush  similar  to  that 
of  the  fox.  There  is  only  one  breed  of  Eskimo  dogs, 
but  they  are  variously  marked  and  of  different  colors, 
black,  white,  gray,  yellow,  brown,  and  mottled.  Some 
scientists  believe  that  they  are  the  direct  descendants 
of  the  Arctic  wolf,  yet,  as  a  rule,  they  are  as  affectionate 
and  obedient  to  their  masters  as  our  own  dogs  at  home. 
Their  food  is  meat,  and  meat  only.    That  they  cannot 


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^^s^ljlp 


THE  nOG  .MARKET  AT  CAPE  YORK 


THE  WHALE    BOAT    RETIUNJING   TO  THE  SHIP    FROM  THE   WAERIIS   HUNT 


THE  CAPE  JESUP  GREXADIERH 


ODD   CUSTOMS  71 

live  on  any  other  food  I  know,  for  I  have  made  the 
experiment.    For  water  they  eat  snow. 

The  dogs  are  not  housed  at  any  season  of  the  year; 
but  summer  and  winter  they  are  tied  somewhere  near 
the  tent  or  igloo.  They  are  never  allowed  to  roam  at 
large,  lest  they  be  lost.  Sometimes  a  special  pet,  or 
a  female  that  has  young  puppies,  will  be  taken  into 
the  igloo  for  a  time;  but  Eskimo  puppies  only  a  month 
old  are  so  hardy  that  they  can  stand  the  severe  winter 
weather. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  give  the  reader  a  general 
idea  of  these  strange  people,  that  have  been  so 
valuable  to  me  in  my  arctic  work.  But  I  want  to 
say  again,  at  the  risk  of  being  misunderstood,  that  I 
hope  no  efforts  will  ever  be  made  to  civilize  them. 
Such  efforts,  if  successful,  would  destroy  their  primi- 
tive communism,  which  is  necessary  to  preserve  their 
existence.  Once  give  them  an  idea  of  real-estate  inter- 
est and  personal-property  rights  in  houses  and  food, 
and  they  might  become  as  selfish  as  civilized  beings; 
whereas  now  any  game  larger  than  a  seal  is  the  com- 
mon property  of  the  tribe  and  no  man  starves  while 
his  neighbors  are  gorging  themselves.  If  a  man  has 
two  sets  of  hunting  implements,  he  gives  one  of  them 
to  the  man  who  has  none.  It  is  this  feeling  of  good- 
fellowship  which  alone  preserves  the  race.  I  have 
taught  them  some  of  the  fundamental  principles  of 
sanitation  and  the  care  of  themselves,  the  treatment 
of  simple  diseases,  of  wounds,  and  other  accidents; 
but  there  I  think  their  civilization  should  stop.  This 
opinion  is  not  based  on  theory  or  prejudice,  but  on 
eighteen  years  of  intimate  study  and  experience. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


GETTING    RECRUITS 


WHEN  on  August  1  the  Roosevelt  steamed  out 
from  Cape  York,  she  had  on  board  sev- 
eral Eskimo  families  which  we  had  picked 
up  there  and  at  Salvo  Island.  We  also  had  about  one 
hundred  dogs,  bought  from  the  Eskimos.  When  I 
say  "bought,"  I  do  not  mean  paid  for  with  money, 
as  these  people  have  no  money  and  no  unit  of  value. 
All  exchange  between  them  is  based  on  the  principle 
of  pure  barter.  For  instance,  if  one  Eskimo  has  a 
deerskin  which  he  does  not  need,  and  another  has 
something  else,  they  exchange.  The  Eskimos  had 
dogs  which  we  wanted,  and  we  had  many  things  which 
they  wanted,  such  as  lumber,  knives  and  other  cut- 
lery, cooking  utensils,  ammunition,  matches,  et  cet- 
era.    So,  as  the  Yankees  say,  we  traded. 

Steaming  in  a  northwesterly  course  from  Cape 
York,  we  passed  the  "Crimson  Cliffs,"  so  named  by 
Sir  John  Ross,  the  English  explorer,  in  1818.  This 
vivid  name  was  applied  to  the  cliffs  by  reason  of  the 
quantities  of  "red  snow"  which  can  be  seen  from  a 
ship  miles  out  at  sea.  The  color  is  given  to  the  per- 
manent snow  by  the  Protococcus  nivalis,  one  of  the 
lowest  types  of  the  single,  living  protoplasmic  cell.  The 
nearly  transparent  gelatinous  masses  vary  from  a 
quarter  inch  in  diameter  to  the  size  of  a  pin-head,  and 

72 


GETTING   RECRUITS  73 

they  draw  from  the  snow  and  the  air  the  scanty  nour- 
ishment which  they  require.  Seen  from  a  distance, 
the  snow  looks  hke  blood.  This  red  banner  of  the 
Arctic  has  greeted  me  on  all  my  northern  journeys. 

Sailing  by  these  cliflFs,  which  extend  for  thirty  or 
forty  miles,  my  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  work 
before  us.  First  and  most  necessary  of  all  was  the 
task  of  gathering  our  arctic  personnel  of  Eskimos  and 
dogs,  already  begun  before  we  left  Cape  York. 

Our  next  stop,  after  Cape  York,  was  on  August  3, 
at  North  Star  Bay,  Oomunnui,  as  the  natives  call 
it,  on  Wolstenholm  Sound.  Here  I  found  the  Erik, 
which  had  become  separated  from  us  in  Davis  Strait 
several  days  before  during  heavy  weather.  At  Oomun- 
nui we  took  on  two  or  three  families  of  Eskimos  and 
more  dogs.  Ooqueah,  one  of  my  North  Pole  party, 
came  aboard  at  this  place;  Seegloo  had  joined  us  at 
Cape  York. 

On  the  night  of  August  5,  a  clear  and  sunshiny 
night,  between  Hakluyt  and  Northumberland  Islands 
I  left  the  Roosevelt  and  transferred  to  the  Erik,  taking 
Matt  Henson  with  me,  for  a  reconnaissance  of  the 
various  Eskimo  settlements  on  Inglefield  Gulf  and 
along  the  coast.  This  detour  was  for  the  purpose  of 
picking  up  more  Eskimos  and  dogs.  The  Roosevelt 
was  sent  ahead  to  Etah,  to  get  in  shape  for  her  coming 
battle  royal  with  the  ice  in  Kane  Basin  and  the  chan- 
nels beyond. 

There  was  for  me  a  strange  mingling  of  pleasure 
and  sadness  in  this  gathering  together  of  our  brown- 
skinned  helpers,  for  I  felt  that  it  was  for  the  last 
time.     The  business  consumed  several  days.     I  went 


74  THENORTHPOLE 

first  to  Karnah,  on  the  Redcliffe  Peninsula,  thence  to 
Kangerdlooksoah  and  Nunatoksoah,  near  the  head  of 
the  gulf.  Returning  on  our  course,  we  came  back  to 
Karnah,  then  went  south  to  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Itiblu  Glacier,  then  northwest  again  by  a  devious 
course  around  the  islands  and  the  points  to  Kookan, 
in  Robertson  Bay,  then  to  Nerke,  on  C.  Saumarez, 
then  on  to  Etah,  where  we  joined  the  Roosevelt,  hav- 
ing obtained  all  the  Eskimos  and  dogs  we  needed,  — 
two  hundred  and  forty-six  of  the  latter,  to  be  exact. 

There  was  no  intention  of  taking  to  the  far  North 
all  the  Eskimos  taken  aboard  the  Erik  and  the  Roose- 
velt —  only  the  best  of  them.  But  if  any  family 
wanted  transportation  from  one  settlement  to  another, 
we  were  glad  to  accommodate  them.  It  is  to  be 
doubted  if  anywhere  on  the  waters  of  the  Seven  Seas 
there  was  ever  a  more  outlandishly  picturesque  ves- 
sel than  ours  at  this  time  —  a  sort  of  free  tourist 
steamship  for  traveling  Eskimos,  with  their  chatter- 
ing children,  barking  dogs,  and  other  goods  and 
chattels. 

Imagine  this  man-and-dog-bestrewn  ship,  on  a 
pleasant,  windless  summer  day  in  Whale  Sound.  The 
listless  sea  and  the  overarching  sky  are  a  vivid  blue 
in  the  sunlight  —  more  like  a  scene  in  the  Bay  of  Naples 
than  one  in  the  Arctic.  There  is  a  crystalline  clear- 
ness in  the  pure  atmosphere  that  gives  to  all  colors  a 
brilliancy  seen  nowhere  else  —  the  glittering  white 
of  the  icebergs  with  the  blue  veins  running  through 
them;  the  deep  reds,  warm  grays,  and  rich  browns  of 
the  cliflFs,  streaked  here  and  there  with  the  yellows 
of  the  sandstone;  a  little  farther  away  sometimes  the 


o 

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to 
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GETTING   RECRUITS  75 

soft  green  grass  of  this  little  arctic  oasis;  and  on  the 
distant  horizon  the  steel-blue  of  the  great  inland  ice. 
When  the  little  auks  fly  high  against  the  sunlit  sky, 
they  appear  like  the  leaves  of  a  forest  when  the  early 
frost  has  touched  them  and  the  first  gale  of  autumn 
carries  them  away,  circling,  drifting,  eddying  through 
the  air.  The  desert  of  northern  Africa  may  be  as 
beautiful  as  Hichens  tells  us;  the  jungles  of  Asia  may 
wear  as  vivid  coloring;  but  to  my  eyes  there  is 
nothing  so  beautiful  as  the  glittering  Arctic  on  a 
sunlit  summer  day. 

On  August  11  the  Erik  reached  Etah,  where  the 
Roosevelt  was  awaiting  her.  The  dogs  were  landed 
on  an  island,  the  Roosevelt  was  washed,  the  boilers 
were  blown  down  and  filled  with  fresh  water,  the  fur- 
naces cleaned,  and  the  cargo  overhauled  and  re-stowed 
to  put  the  vessel  in  fighting  trim  for  her  coming  encoun- 
ter with  the  ice.  About  three  hundred  tons  of  coal 
were  transferred  from  the  Erik  to  the  Roosevelt,  and 
about  fifty  tons  of  walrus  and  whale  meat. 

Fifty  tons  of  coal  were  cached  at  Etah  for  the 
Roosevelt's  expected  return  the  following  year.  Two 
men,  boatswain  Murphy  and  Pritchard,  the  cabin  boy, 
with  full  provisions  for  two  years,  were  left  in  charge. 
Harry  Whitney,  a  summer  passenger  on  the  Erik, 
who  was  ambitious  to  obtain  musk-oxen  and  polar 
bears,  asked  permission  to  remain  with  my  two  men  at 
Etah.  The  permission  was  granted,  and  Mr.  Whit- 
ney's belongings  were  landed. 

At  Etah,  Rudolph  Franke,  who  had  come  north 
with  Dr.  Cook  in  1907,  came  to  me  and  asked  permis- 
sion to  go  home  on  the  Erik.     He  showed  me  a  letter 


76  THENORTHPOLE 

from  Dr.  Cook  directing  him  to  go  home  this  season 
on  a  whaler.  An  examination  by  Dr.  Goodsell,  my 
surgeon,  showed  that  the  man  suffered  from  incipient 
scurvy,  and  that  he  was  in  a  serious  mental  state,  so 
I  had  no  alternative  but  to  give  him  passage  home  on 
the  Erik.  Boatswain  Murphy,  whom  I  was  to  leave  at 
Etah,  was  a  thoroughly  trustworthy  man,  and  I  gave 
him  instructions  to  prevent  the  Eskimos  from  looting 
the  supplies  and  equipment  left  there  by  Dr.  Cook,  and 
to  be  prepared  to  render  Dr.  Cook  any  assistance  he 
might  require  when  he  returned,  as  I  had  no  doubt  he 
would  as  soon  as  the  ice  froze  over  Smith  Sound  (pre- 
sumably in  January)  so  as  to  enable  him  to  cross  to 
Anoratok  from  EUsmere  Land,  where  I  had  no  doubt 
he  then  was. 

On  the  Erik  were  three  other  passengers,  Mr. 
C.  C.  Crafts,  who  had  come  north  to  take  a  series  of 
magnetic  observations  for  the  department  of  terres- 
trial magnetism  of  the  Carnegie  Institution  in  Wash- 
ington, Mr.  George  S.  Norton,  of  New  York,  and  Mr. 
Walter  A.  Earned,  the  tennis  champion.  The  Roose- 
velt's carpenter.  Bob  Bartlett,  of  Newfoundland  (not 
related  to  Captain  Bob  Bartlett),  and  a  sailor  named 
Johnson  also  went  back  on  the  Erik.  That  vessel 
was  commanded  by  Captain  Sam  Bartlett  (Captain 
Bob's  uncle),  who  had  been  master  of  my  own  ship 
on  several  expeditions. 

At  Etah  we  took  on  a  few  more  Eskimos,  includ- 
ing Ootah  and  Egingwah,  who  were  destined  to  be 
with  me  at  the  Pole;  and  I  left  there  all  the  remaining 
Eskimos  that  I  did  not  wish  to  take  with  me  to  winter 
quarters    in    the    North.     We    retained    forty-nine  — 


GETTING   RECRUITS  77 

twenty-two  men,  seventeen  women,  ten  children  — 
and  two  hundred  and  forty-six  dogs.  The  Roosevelt, 
as  usual,  was  loaded  almost  to  the  water's  edge  with 
the  coal  that  had  been  crowded  into  her,  the  seventy 
tons  of  whale  meat  which  we  had  bought  in  Labrador, 
and  the  meat  and  blubber  of  nearly  fifty  walruses. 

We  parted  company  from  the  Erik  and  steamed 
north  on  the  18th  of  August,  an  intensely  disagree- 
able day,  with  driving  snow  and  rain,  and  a  cutting 
wind  from  the  southeast  which  made  the  sea  very 
rough.  As  the  two  ships  separated,  they  signaled 
"good-by  and  good  luck"  with  the  whistles,  and  our 
last  link  with  civilization  was  broken. 

Since  my  return  I  have  been  asked  if  I  did  not  feel 
deep  emotion  on  parting  with  my  companions  on  the 
Erik,  and  I  have  truthfully  replied  that  I  did  not. 
The  reader  must  remember  that  this  was  my  eighth 
expedition  into  the  Arctic,  and  that  I  had  parted 
from  a  supply  ship  many  times  before.  Constant 
repetition  will  take'  the  edge  from  the  most  dramatic 
experience.  As  we  steamed  north  from  the  harbor 
of  Etah,  my  thoughts  were  on  the  condition  of  the  ice  in 
Robeson  Channel;  and  the  ice  in  Robeson  Channel  is 
more  dramatic  than  any  parting  —  save  from  one's 
nearest  and  dearest,  and  I  had  left  mine  three  thou- 
sand miles  below  at  Sydney.  We  had  some  three 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  almost  solid  ice  to  negoti- 
ate before  we  could  reach  our  hoped-for  winter  quarters 
at  Cape  Sheridan.  I  knew  that  beyond  Smith  Sound 
we  might  have  to  make  our  slow  way  rod  by  rod,  and 
sometimes  literally  inch  by  inch,  butting  and  ramming 
and  dodging  the  mountainous  ice;  that,  if  the  Roose- 


78  THENORTHPOLE 

velt  survived,  I  should  probably  not  have  my  clothes 
off,  or  be  able  to  snatch  more  than  an  hour  or  two  of 
sleep  at  a  time,  for  two  or  three  weeks.  Should  we 
lose  our  ship  and  have  to  make  our  way  over  the  ice 
southward  from  anywhere  below  Lady  Franklin  Bay, 
or  possibly  beyond  there  —  it  was  good-by  to  my 
life's  dream  and  probably  to  some  of  my  companions. 


CHAPTER  IX 


A   WALRUS   HUNT 


THE  walrus  are  among  the  most  picturesque 
and  powerful  fauna  of  the  far  North.  More 
than  that,  their  pursuit  and  capture,  a  pro- 
cess by  no  means  devoid  of  peril,  is  an  important  part 
of  every  serious  arctic  expedition,  for  on  every  expedi- 
tion of  mine  these  huge  creatures,  weighing  as  they  do 
all  the  way  from  1,200  to  3,000  pounds,  are  hunted 
for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  the  maximum  of  meat 
for  dog  food  in  a  minimum  of  time. 

Wolstenholm  and  Whale  Sounds,  which  are  passed 
before  reaching  Etah,  are  favorite  haunts  of  the  wal- 
rus. The  hunting  of  these  monsters  is  the  most 
exciting  and  dangerous  sport  in  the  arctic  regions. 
The  polar  bear  has  been  called  the  tiger  of  the  North; 
but  a  contest  between  one  or  two,  or  even  three,  of 
these  animals  and  a  man  armed  with  a  Winchester 
repeating  rifle  is  an  entirely  one-sided  affair.  On 
the  contrary,  a  contest  with  a  herd  of  walrus,  —  the 
lions  of  the  North,  —  in  a  small  whale-boat,  will  give 
more  thrills  to  the  minute  than  anything  else  I  know 
of  within  the  Arctic  Circle. 

On  the  last  expedition  I  did  not  go  after  walrus 
myself,  leaving  that  exhilarating  labor  to  the  younger 
men.  I  have  seen  so  much  of  it  in  the  past  that  my 
first  vivid  impression  is  somewhat  blunted.     I  have 

79 


80  THENORTHPOLE 

therefore  asked  George  Borup  to  write  for  me  an 
account  of  walrus-hunting,  as  it  appears  to  a  novice, 
and  his  story  is  so  vivid  that  I  give  it  to  the  reader  in 
his  own  words,  graphic  with  the  keen  impressions 
of  a  young  man  and  picturesque  with  college  slang. 
He  says: 

"Walrus-hunting  is  the  best  sport  in  the  shooting 
line  that  I  know.  There  is  something  doing  when  you 
tackle  a  herd  of  fifty-odd,  weighing  between  one  and 
two  tons  each,  that  go  for  you  whether  wounded  or  not; 
that  can  punch  a  hole  through  eight  inches  of  young 
ice;  that  try  to  climb  into  the  boat  to  get  at  or  upset 
you, — we  never  could  make  out  which,  and  didn't  care, 
as  the  result  to  us  would  have  been  the  same,  —  or 
else  try  to  ram  your  boat  and  stave  holes  in  it. 

"Get  in  a  mix-up  with  a  herd,  when  every  man  in 
the  whale-boat  is  standing  by  to  repel  boarders,  hit- 
ting them  over  the  head  with  oars,  boat-hooks,  axes, 
and  yelling  like  a  cheering  section  at  a  football  game 
to  try  to  scare  them  off;  with  the  rifles  going  like 
young  Gatling  guns,  and  the  walruses  bellowing  from 
pain  and  anger,  coming  to  the  surface  with  mad  rushes, 
sending  the  water  up  in  the  air  till  you  would  think  a 
flock  of  geysers  was  turned  loose  in  your  immediate 
vicinity  —  oh,  it's  great! 

"When  we  were  walrus-hunting,  the  Roosevelt 
would  steam  along,  with  all  hands  on  the  watch. 
Then  suddenly  a  keen-eyed  Eskimo  would  sing  out, 
'Awick  soah!'  or,  possibly,  'Awick  tedicksoah!'  ('Wal- 
ruses!    A  great  many  walruses!') 

"We  would  look  to  see  if  there  were  enough  of 
the  animals  to  make  a  raid  worth  while;  then,  if  the 


AWALRUSHUNT  81 

prospect  was  satisfactory,  the  Roosevelt  would  steam 
along  to  leeward,  for  if  they  smelled  her  smoke  they 
would  wake  up  and  we  would  never  see  them  again. 

"Henson,  MacMillan,  and  I  used  to  take  turns 
going  after  these  brutes.  Four  or  five  Eskimos,  one 
sailor,  and  a  whale-boat  were  assigned  to  each  of  us. 
The  boats  were  painted  white  to  resemble  pieces  of 
ice,  and  the  row-locks  were  muffled,  that  we  might 
steal  along  as  noiselessly  as  possible. 

"As  soon  as  we  sighted  a  herd  worthy  of  our  lead, 
we  would  sing  out  to  our  men, '  Shake  her  up ! '  and  they 
would  all  come  on  the  jump.  After  a  hurried  though 
careful  look  to  see  if  we  had  four  or  five  oars,  five  har- 
poons, lines,  floats,  two  rifles,  and  ammunition,  we 
would  cry,  'Stand  by  to  lower  away';  and  as  the  Roose- 
velt slackened  speed  we  would  slide  down  the  davit 
ropes,  man  the  oars,  and  go  out  to  look  for  trouble 
—  which  we  usually  found. 

"We  would  get  as  near  as  possible  to  the  walruses 
on  the  ice.  If  they  were  sound  asleep,  we  could  row  to 
within  five  yards  and  harpoon  a  couple;  but  generally 
they  would  wake  up,  when  we  were  about  twenty 
yards  away,  and  begin  to  slide  off  into  the  water. 
We  would  then  shoot,  and  if  they  attacked  us  it  was 
easy  to  harpoon  them;  while  if  they  started  to  leave 
the  country,  it  might  be  a  Marathon  race  before  we 
got  close  enough  to  make  the  harpoons  fast  in  their 
hides. 

"A  walrus  when  killed  will  go  to  the  bottom  like 
a  ton  of  lead,  and  our  business  was  to  get  a  harpoon 
into  him  before  that  event  took  place.  The  harpoon 
is  fastened  to  the  float  by  a  long  thong  made  of  seal- 


82  THENORTHPOLE 

skin,  and  a  float  is  made  of  the  entire  skin  of  a  seal 
filled  with  air  for  buoyancy. 

"A  thing  we  soon  learned  to  look  out  for  was  to 
let  this  thong,  which  was  neatly  coiled  up  like  a  lasso 
before  it  was  thrown,  have  the  right  of  way  and  all 
the  space  it  needed;  for  if  it  happened  to  take  a  turn 
around  one  of  our  legs  when  the  other  end  was  fast  to 
a  walrus,  we  would  be  missing  that  useful  member, 
and  be  pulled  into  the  water  —  and  possibly  drowned. 

"Now  a  crew  that  goes  through  a  scrimmage  with 
these  monsters  develops  teamplay  of  a  high  order 
in  a  surprisingly  short  time.  The  sailor  would  steer, 
four  Eskimos  would  row,  and  in  the  bow  would  be 
the  best  harpooner  with  one  of  us  beside  him.  The 
two  men  forward  would  enable  the  men  rowing  to 
be  spelled,  if  we  had  a  long  chase. 

"I  shall  never  forget  my  first  mix-up  with  a  herd. 
We  had  sighted  about  ten  walruses  two  miles  away, 
and  MacMillan  and  I,  Dennis  Murphy,  a  sailor, 
and  three  Eskimos  manned  a  whale-boat,  and  off  we 
went.  About  two  hundred  yards  from  the  walruses 
we  quit  rowing  and  let  Murphy  scull  us,  while  Mac 
and  I  crouched  side  by  side  in  the  bow,  the  Eskimos 
with  their  harpoons  being  ready  right  behind  us. 

"When  we  were  about  twenty  yards  from  the 
herd,  one  bull  woke  up,  gave  a  grunt,  poked  another, 
woke  him,  and  then  —  bang!  bang!  bang!  we  opened 
fire.  Mac  had  a  Winchester  automatic  rifle,  and 
he  got  off  five  shots  so  fast  that  before  the  first 
one  left  the  muzzle  the  other  four  were  chasing  it. 
He  dropped  a  large  bull,  which  gave  a  convulsive  flop 
and  rolled  into  the  water  with  a  splash.     I  hit  a  couple, 


AWALRUSHUNT  83 

and  with  hoarse  grunts  of  pain  and  fury  they  all 
wriggled  off  the  ice  and  dived  out  of  sight.  The  boat 
was  hurried  to  within  five  yards  of  Mac's  bull,  and  an 
Eskimo  hurled  a  harpoon,  hit  the  large  bull,  and  threw 
overboard  the  sealskin  float.  At  this  stage  of  the  game 
about  forty  other  walruses,  that  had  been  feeding 
below,  came  up  to  the  surface  to  see  what  the  noise 
was  about,  spitting  the  clam  shells  out  of  their  mouths 
and  snorting.  The  water  was  alive  with  the  brutes, 
and  many  of  them  were  so  close  to  us  that  we  could 
hit  them  with  the  oars.  A  harpoon  was  driven  into 
another  by  a  corking  throw;  and  just  then,  when  my 
magazine  was  empty,  things  began  to  come  our  way. 

"Suddenly  a  large  bull,  followed  by  two  others, 
all  wounded,  came  to  the  surface  twenty  yards  off, 
gave  tongue  to  their  battle-cry  and  charged.  The 
Eskimos  were  not  pleased  at  the  look  of  things.  They 
grabbed  the  oars  and  began  to  bang  them  on  the  gun- 
wale of  the  boat,  yelling  like  so  many  steam  sirens, 
hoping  to  scare  the  invaders  off;  but  they  might  as 
well  have  been  crooning  lullabies. 

"Mac,  who  had  never  before  shot  anything  larger 
than  a  bird,  was  cool,  and  his  automatic  was  going 
off  like  a  pom-pom,  when  we  cut  loose  on  the  charging 
trio.  Their  numerous  companions  added  to  the  gen- 
eral din;  and  the  reports  of  the  rifles,  the  shouts  and 
pounding  of  the  Eskimos,  with  the  bellowing  of  the 
infuriated  animals,  sounded  like  Vesuvius  blowing 
its  head  off.  We  sank  one  walrus,  then  disabled  an- 
other; but  the  biggest  one  dived  and  came  up  with  a 
snort  right  alongside  of  the  boat,  so  that  he  blew  water 
in  our  faces.     With  our  guns  almost  touching  his  head, 


84  THENORTHPOLE 

we  let  drive  —  and  he  began  to  sink.  With  a  tri- 
umphant cheer,  the  Eskimos  harpooned  him. 

"Then  we  signaled  to  the  Roosevelt  to  come  up, 
and  as  soon  as  the  friends  and  neighbors  of  the  deceased 
smelled  the  smoke,  they  made  for  parts  unknown. 

"In  this  hunt,  as  in  all  other  walrus  hunts  I  was 
in,  I  had  a  hard  time  in  trying  not  to  take  a  crack  at 
the  floats.  They  were  black,  and  jumped  around  in 
the  weirdest  way,  so  that  they  appeared  to  be  alive. 
I  knew  that  if  I  shot  one,  I  would  never  hear  the  last 
of  it,  so  took  good  care. 

"Another  time  we  went  for  a  herd  of  fifty -odd 
walruses  that  were  sleeping  on  the  ice.  The  wind 
was  blowing  fairly  hard,  and  it  is  never  easy  to  shoot 
accurately  from  a  whale-boat  which  is  doing  a  cake- 
walk  in  the  arms  of  a  choppy  sea.  When  we  got 
twenty  yards  from  the  ice  cake,  we  began  to  fire.  I 
hit  a  couple  of  walruses,  but  did  not  kill  them,  and 
with  fierce  grunts  the  huge  brutes  wriggled  into  the 
sea.  They  were  coming  our  way,  and  all  hands  stood 
by  to  show  the  visitors  how  we  loved  to  speed  the 
parting  guest  —  our  way  of  showing  this  being  the 
vocal  and  instrumental  method  already  described. 

"  Wesharkoopsi,  an  Eskimo,  who  stood  right 
behind  me  and  who  had  been  telling  us  what  an  expert 
he  was  with  the  harpoon,  was  making  threatening 
gestures  which  boded  ill  for  any  walrus  that  came 
near  us. 

"Suddenly,  with  a  loud  'Ook!  Ook!'  a  bull  rose 
like  a  giant  jack-in-the-box  right  alongside  of  me, 
giving  us  a  regular  shower  bath,  and  he  got  both  tusks 
on  the  gunwale  of  the  boat. 


AWALRUSHUNT  85 

"  Wesharkoopsi  was  not  expecting  a  fight  at  such 
close  quarters,  and  he  got  badly  rattled.  Instead  of 
throwing  his  harpoon  he  dropped  it,  yelled  madly, 
and  began  to  spit  in  the  monster's  face.  It  is  need- 
less to  state  that  we  never  again  took  Wesharkoopsi 
walrus-hunting  in  a  whale-boat. 

"The  others  were  shouting,  swearing  in  English 
and  Eskimo  at  Wesharkoopsi,  the  walrus,  and  every- 
thing in  general;  some  were  trying  to  hit  the  brute, 
others  to  back  water. 

"I  was  not  eager  just  then  to  test  the  soundness 
of  one  arctic  explorer's  dictum:  'If  a  walrus  gets  his 
tusks  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  you  must  not  hit 
him,  as  such  a  course  would  induce  him  to  back  water 
and  upset  you;  but  gently  grasp  the  two-thousand- 
pound  monster  by  the  tusks  and  drop  him  overboard' 
—  or  words  to  that  effect.  If  this  one  had  got  his 
tusks  a  quarter  inch  further  my  way,  he  would  have 
had  them  clear  over  the  gunwale;  so  I  held  my  rifle 
at  port  arms,  stuck  its  business  end  into  the  visitor's 
face,  and  let  him  have  it  —  which  settled  his  account. 

"That  walrus  had  tried  to  upset  us,  but  almost 
immediately  another  one  tried  a  new  variation  of 
the  game,  an  almost  successful  efifort  to  sink  us  —  a 
regular  dive-tackle. 

"He  was  a  large  bull  that  an  Eskimo  had  har- 
pooned. He  showed  what  he  was  made  of  by  promptly 
attacking  the  float  and  putting  it  out  of  commission, 
then  he  proceeded  to  make  off  with  the  harpoon, 
float,  and  all.  He  happened  to  come  near  my  end  of 
the  boat,  and  I  shot  at  him;  but  whether  I  hit  the  mark 
or  not  I  do  not  know.     Anyhow,  he  dived,  and  while 


86  THENORTHPOLE 

we  were  all  looking  over  the  side  for  him  to  appear, 
our  craft  was  hit  a  tremendous  whack  by  something 
under  the  stern  —  so  hard  that  it  upset  the  bosqn, 
who  was  standing  there  peacefully  sculling. 

"Our  friend  was  getting  a  little  too  strenuous;  but 
he  dived  before  I  could  shoot  again,  and  came  up 
fifty  yards  off.  Then  I  hit  him  with  a  bullet,  and  he 
disappeared.  Maybe  we  were  not  an  anxious  crowd 
in  that  boat  for  the  next  few  minutes,  as  we  knew 
that  that  submarine  earthquake  was  due  for  another 
blow-up  at  any  instant  —  but  when  and  where!  We 
stared  at  the  surface  of  the  water,  to  see  if  possible 
from  what  direction  the  next  attack  would  come. 

"One  more  such  scrimmage  as  the  last  and  we 
would  be  all  in  —  both  literally  and  metaphorically; 
for  he  had  put  a  big  hole  through  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  and  as  she  had  a  double  bottom  we  could  not 
check  the  leak,  and  one  man  had  to  bale  rapidly.  We 
always  carried  along  a  lot  of  old  coats  to  stop  holes 
in  the  boats,  but  in  this  case  they  might  as  well  have 
been  pocket  handkerchiefs. 

"Suddenly  an  Eskimo  who  was  looking  over  the 
side  yelled:  'Kingeemuttl  Kingeemutt ! '  ('Back  her! 
Back  her!')  But  the  words  were  hardly  out  of  his 
mouth  when  —  smash!  rip!  bang!  —  the  stern  of  the 
boat  rose  under  the  shock,  the  bosun  was  nearly 
knocked  overboard,  an  Eskimo  catching  him  on  the 
fly,  and  a  hole  I  could  have  put  both  fists  through  sud' 
denly  appeared  within  an  inch  of  his  foot,  just  above 
the  water  line. 

"I  looked  over  the  gunwale.  There  the  brute  lay 
on  his  back,  tusks  upright  under  the  stern;  then  with 


HOISTING  A  WALRUS  TO  THE  DECK  OF  THE  ROOSEVELT 


s 


Z 
P 

H 
Pi 

o 

Ph 
0 

a 
a 


AWALRUSHUNT  87 

a  quick  flop  he  dived.  The  men  did  their  usual 
stunts  to  scare  him  off.  Up  he  came  fifteen  yards 
away,  gave  his  battle-cry,  'Ook!  Ook!  Ook!'  to  warn 
us  to  look  out  for  trouble,  and  came  tearing  along 
the  surface  of  Whale  Sound  like  a  torpedo  boat  de- 
stroyer, or  an  unmuffled  automobile  with  a  bicycle 
policeman  on  its  trail. 

"I  got  my  rapid-fire  gun  into  the  game  and  sank 
him;  then  we  made  for  the  nearest  cake  of  ice  —  and 
reached  it  none  too  soon." 

To  take  up  the  story  where  Borup  leaves  it,  when 
the  first  wounded  walrus  had  been  despatched  with  a 
bullet,  and  the  floats  were  all  taken  in,  an  oar  was 
erected  in  the  boat  for  a  signal,  and  the  Roosevelt 
steamed  up.  The  floats  and  the  lines  were  taken  over 
the  rail  of  the  ship,  the  walrus  raised  to  the  surface 
of  the  water,  a  hook  inserted,  and  the  winch  on  deck 
hoisted  the  monster  on  board,  to  be  later  skinned 
and  cut  up  by  the  expert  knives  of  the  Eskimos. 
While  this  work  was  going  on,  the  deck  of  the  ship 
looked  like  a  slaughterhouse,  with  the  ravenous  dogs — 
at  this  stage  of  the  journey  we  had  already  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty — waiting,  ears  erect  and  eyes  spark- 
ling, to  catch  the  refuse  thrown  them  by  the  Eskimos. 

In  the  Whale  Sound  region  we  sometimes  obtained 
narwhal  and  deer,  but  there  was  no  narwhal  hunting 
to  speak  of  on  the  upward  journey  this  last  time. 
Walrus,  narwhal,  and  seal  meat  are  valuable  food  for 
dogs,  but  a  white  man  does  not  usually  enjoy  it  — 
unless  he  is  nearly  starved.  Many  times,  however, 
during  my  twenty-three  years  of  arctic  exploration, 
I  have  thanked  God  for  even  a  bite  of  raw  dog. 


CHAPTER  X 

KNOCKING  AT  THE  GATEWAY  TO  THE  POLE 

FROM  Etah  to  Cape  Sheridan!  Imagine  about 
three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  almost  solid 
ice  —  ice  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  mountainous 
ice,  flat  ice,  ragged  and  tortured  ice,  ice  that,  for  every 
foot  of  height  revealed  above  the  surface  of  the  water, 
hides  seven  feet  below  —  a  theater  of  action  which 
for  diabolic  and  Titanic  struggle  makes  Dante's 
frozen  circle  of  the  Inferno  seem  like  a  skating 
pond. 

Then  imagine  a  little  black  ship,  solid,  sturdy, 
compact,  strong  and  resistant  as  any  vessel  built  by 
mortal  hands  can  be,  yet  utterly  insignificant  in  com- 
parison with  the  white,  cold  adversary  she  must  fight. 
And  on  this  little  ship  are  sixty-nine  human  beings, 
men,  women,  and  children,  whites  and  Eskimos,  who 
have  gone  out  into  the  crazy,  ice-tortured  channel 
between  Baffin  Bay  and  the  Polar  Sea  —  gone  out  to 
help  prove  the  reality  of  a  dream  which  has  bewitched 
some  of  the  most  daring  minds  of  the  world  for  cen- 
turies, a  will-o'-the-wisp  in  the  pursuit  of  which  men 
have  frozen,  and  starved,  and  died.  The  music  that 
ever  sounded  in  our  ears  had  for  melody  the  howling 
of  two  hundred  and  forty-six  wild  dogs,  for  a  bass 
accompaniment  the  deep,  low  grumbling  of  the  ice, 
surging  around  us  with  the  impulse  of  the  tides,  and 

88 


KNOCKING  AT  THE  GATEWAY  89 

for  punctuation  the  shock  and  jar  of  our  crashing 
assaults  upon  the  floes. 

We  steamed  northward  into  the  fog  beyond  Etah, 
Greenland,  on  the  afternoon  of  August  18,  1908.  This 
was  the  beginning  of  the  last  stage  of  the  Roosevelt's 
journey.  All  now  on  board  would,  if  they  lived,  be  with 
me  until  my  return  the  following  year.  As  an  ungentle 
reminder  of  what  was  ahead  of  us,  though  going  at 
half  speed  because  of  the  fog,  we  struck  a  small  berg 
a  little  way  out  from  the  harbor.  Had  the  Roosevelt 
been  an  ordinary  ship  instead  of  the  sturdy  ice-fighter 
that  she  is,  my  story  might  have  ended  right  here. 
As  it  was,  the  shock  of  the  impact  jarred  things  con- 
siderably. But  the  berg  suffered  more  than  the  ship, 
which  only  shook  herself  like  a  dog  coming  out  of 
the  water,  and  with  the  main  mass  of  the  berg  swaying 
heavily  on  one  side  from  the  blow  we  had  given  it,  and 
a  large  fragment  we  had  broken  off  churning  the  water 
on  the  other  side,  the  Roosevelt  scraped  between  them 
and  went  on. 

This  little  incident  made  a  strong  impression  on 
the  new  members  of  my  party,  and  I  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  tell  them  that  it  was  only  a  mosquito 
bite  to  the  crunching  and  grinding  between  the  jaws 
of  the  heavier  ice  that  was  in  store  for  us  a  little  farther 
on.  We  were  working  in  a  northwesterly  direction 
toward  the  EUesmere  Land  side,  and  headed  for  Cape 
Sabine,  of  terrible  memories.  As  we  steamed  on,  the  ice 
became  thicker,  and  we  had  to  turn  south  to  get  out  of 
the  way  of  it,  worming  our  course  among  the  loose  floes. 
The  Roosevelt  avoided  the  heavier  ice;  but  the  lighter 
pack  she  shoved  aside  without  much  difiiculty.   South 


90  THENORTHPOLE 

of  Brevoort  Island  we  were  fortunate  in  finding  a  strip 
of  open  water,  and  steamed  northward  again,  keeping 
close  to  the  shore. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  from  Etah  to  Cape 
Sheridan,  for  the  greater  part  of  the  course,  the  shores 
on  either  side  are  clearly  visible,  —  on  the  east  the 
Greenland  coast,  on  the  west  the  coast  of  EUesmere 
Land  and  Grant  Land.  At  Cape  Beechey,  the  narrow- 
est and  most  dangerous  part,  the  channel  is  only  eleven 
miles  wide,  and  when  the  air  is  clear  it  almost  seems 
as  if  a  rifle  bullet  might  be  fired  from  one  side  to  the 
other.  These  waters,  save  in  exceptional  seasons,  are 
filled  with  the  heaviest  kind  of  ice,  which  is  constantly 
floating  southward  from  the  Polar  Sea  toward  Bafiin 
Bay. 

Whether  this  channel  was  carved  in  the  solid  land 
by  the  force  of  pre-Adamite  glaciers,  or  whether  it  is  a 
Titanic  cleft  formed  by  the  breaking  off  of  Greenland 
from  Grant  Land,  is  a  question  still  undetermined  by 
geologists;  but  for  difficulty  and  danger  there  is  no 
place  to  compare  with  it  in  the  whole  arctic  region. 

It  is  hard  for  a  layman  to  understand  the  character 
of  the  ice  through  which  the  Roosevelt  fought  her  way. 
Most  persons  imagine  that  the  ice  of  the  arctic  regions 
has  been  formed  by  direct  freezing  of  the  sea  water; 
but  in  the  summer  time  very  little  of  the  floating  ice 
is  of  that  character.  It  is  composed  of  huge  sheets 
broken  off  from  the  glacial  fringe  of  North  Grant  Land 
broken  up  by  contact  with  other  floes  and  with  the 
land,  and  driven  south  under  the  impetus  of  the  violent 
flood  tides.  It  is  not  unusual  to  see  there  ice  between 
eighty  and  one  hundred  feet  thick.     As  seven-eighths 


KNOCKING  AT  THE  GATEWAY  91 

of  these  heavy  floes  are  under  water,  one  does  not 
realize  how  thick  they  are  until  one  sees  where  a  huge 
mass,  by  the  pressure  of  the  pack  behind  it,  has  been 
driven  upon  the  shore,  and  stands  there  high  and 
dry,  eighty  or  a  hundred  feet  above  the  water,  like  a 
silver  castle  guarding  the  shore  of  this  exaggerated 
and  ice-clogged  Rhine. 

The  navigation  of  the  narrow  and  ice-encumbered 
channels  between  Etah  and  Cape  Sheridan  was  long 
considered  an  utter  impossibility,  and  only  four  ships 
besides  the  Roosevelt  have  succeeded  in  accomplishing 
any  considerable  portion  of  it.  Of  these  four  ships, 
one,  the  Polaris,  was  lost.  Three,  the  Alert,  the  Dis- 
covery, and  the  Proteus,  made  the  voyage  up  and  back 
in  safety;  but  one  of  those,  the  Proteus,  was  lost  in 
an  attempt  to  repeat  the  dash.  The  Roosevelt  had 
on  the  expedition  of  1905-6  made  the  voyage  up 
and  back,  though  she  was  badly  smashed  on  the 
return. 

Going  north,  the  Roosevelt  of  necessity  followed 
the  coast  a  portion  of  the  way,  as  only  close  to  the 
shore  could  any  water  be  found  which  would  enable 
the  ship  to  advance.  With  the  shore  ice  on  one  side, 
and  the  moving  central  pack  on  the  other,  the  changing 
tides  were  almost  certain  to  give  us  an  occasional 
opportunity  to  steam  ahead. 

This  channel  is  the  meeting  place  between  the 
tides  coming  from  Baffin  Bay  on  the  south  and  from 
Lincoln  Sea  on  the  north,  the  actual  point  of  meet- 
ing being  about  Cape  Frazer.  South  of  that  point 
the  flood  tide  runs  north,  and  north  of  it  the  flood 
tide  runs  south.    One  may  judge  of  the  force  of  these 


92  THENORTHPOLE 

tides  from  the  fact  that  on  the  shores  of  the  Polar  Sea 
the  mean  rise  is  only  a  little  over  a  foot,  while  in  the 
narrowest  part  of  the  channel  the  tide  rises  and  falls 
twelve  or  fourteen  feet. 

As  a  rule,  looking  across  the  channel,  there  seems 
to  be  no  water  —  nothing  but  uneven  and  tortured 
ice.  When  the  tide  is  at  the  ebb,  the  ship  follows  the 
narrow  crack  of  water  between  the  shore  and  the  moving 
pack  of  the  center,  driving  ahead  with  all  her  force;  then, 
when  the  flood  tide  begins  to  rush  violently  southward, 
the  ship  must  hurry  to  shelter  in  some  niche  of  the  shore 
ice,  or  behind  some  point  of  rock,  to  save  herself  from 
destruction  or  being  driven  south  again. 

This  method  of  navigation,  however,  is  one  of  con- 
stant hazard,  as  it  keeps  the  vessel  between  the  im- 
movable rocks  and  the  heavy  and  rapidly  drifting 
ice,  with  the  ever-present  possibility  of  being  crushed 
between  the  two.  My  knowledge  of  the  ice  conditions 
of  these  channels  and  their  navigation  was  absolutely 
my  own,  gained  in  former  years  of  traveling  along 
the  shores  and  studying  them  for  this  very  purpose. 
On  my  various  expeditions  I  had  walked  every  foot 
of  the  coast  line,  from  Payer  Harbor  on  the  south  to 
Cape  Joseph  Henry  on  the  north,  from  three  to  eight 
times.  I  knew  every  indentation  of  that  coast,  every 
possible  shelter  for  a  ship,  every  place  where  icebergs 
usually  grounded,  and  the  places  where  the  tide  ran 
strongest,  as  accurately  as  a  tugboat  captain  in  New 
York  harbor  knows  the  piers  of  the  North  River  water 
front.  When  Bartlett  was  in  doubt  as  to  making  a 
risky  run,  with  the  chance  of  not  finding  shelter  for 
the  ship,  I  could  usually  say  to  him: 


KNOCKING  AT  THE  GATEWAY    93 

"At  such  and  such  a  place,  so  far  from  here,  is  a 
little  niche  behind  the  delta  of  a  stream,  where  we  can 
drive  the  Roosevelt  in,  if  necessary";  or: 

"Here  icebergs  are  almost  invariably  grounded, 
and  we  can  find  shelter  behind  them";  or: 

"Here  is  a  place  absolutely  to  be  shunned,  for  the 
floes  pile  up  here  at  the  slightest  provocation,  in  a  way 
that  would  destroy  any  ship  afloat." 

It  was  this  detailed  knowledge  of  every  foot  of  the 
EUesmere  Land  and  Grant  Land  coasts,  combined 
with  Bartlett's  energy  and  ice  experience,  that  en- 
abled us  to  pass  four  times  between  this  arctic  Scylla 
and  Charybdis. 

The  fog  lifted  about  nine  o'clock  the  first  night 
out,  the  sun  peeped  through  the  clouds,  and  as  we 
passed  Payer  Harbor,  on  the  EUesmere  Land  side, 
we  saw,  sharply  outlined  against  the  snow,  the  house 
where  I  wintered  in  1901-2.  A  flood  of  memories  rushed 
over  me  at  sight  of  the  place.  It  was  in  Payer  Harbor 
that  Mrs.  Peary  and  my  little  daughter  had  waited 
for  me,  on  the  Windward  from  September,  1900,  to 
May,  1901,  the  ice  being  so  heavy  that  year  that  the 
ship  could  neither  reach  Fort  Conger,  three  hundred 
miles  beyond,  where  I  was,  nor  regain  the  open  water 
to  the  south  and  return  home.  That  was  the  spring 
when  I  had  been  obliged  to  turn  back  at  Lincoln 
Bay,  because  the  exhaustion  of  my  Eskimos  and  dogs 
made  a  dash  for  the  Pole  impossible.  It  was  at 
Payer  Harbor  that  I  had  rejoined  my  family;  it  was 
at  Payer  Harbor  that  I  had  parted  from  them, 
determined  to  make  one  fight  more  to  reach  the 
goal. 


94  THENORTHPOLE 

"One  fight  more,"  I  said  in  1902;  but  I  had  only 
reached  84°  17'. 

"One  fight  more,"  I  had  said  in  1905;  but  I  had 
only  reached  87°  6'. 

And  now,  at  Payer  Harbor  again,  on  August  18, 
1908,  it  was  still  "One  fight  more!"  Only  this  time  I 
knew  it  was  the  last,  in  truth,  whatever  the  result. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  night  we  were  steaming  past 
the  desolate,  wind-swept  and  ice-ground  rocks  of  Cape 
Sabine,  the  spot  that  marks  one  of  the  most  somber 
chapters  in  arctic  history,  where  Greely's  ill-fated 
party  slowly  starved  to  death  in  1884  —  seven  sur- 
vivors only  being  rescued  out  of  a  party  of  twenty- 
four!  The  ruins  of  the  rude  stone  hut  built  by  these 
men  for  shelter  during  the  last  year  of  their  lives  can 
still  be  seen  on  the  bleak  northern  shore  of  Cape  Sabine, 
only  two  or  three  miles  from  the  extreme  point.  It 
is  doubtful  if  a  more  desolate  and  unsheltered  location 
for  a  camp  could  be  found  anywhere  in  the  arctic 
regions,  fully  exposed  to  the  biting  winds  from  the 
north,  cut  off  by  the  rocks  back  of  it  from  the  rays  of 
the  southern  sun,  and  besieged  by  the  ice  pack  surg- 
ing down  from  Kane  Basin  in  the  north. 

I  first  saw  the  place  in  August,  1896,  in  a  blinding 
snowstorm,  so  thick  that  it  was  impossible  to  see  more 
than  a  few  yards  in  any  direction.  The  impressions  of 
that  day  will  never  be  forgotten  —  the  pity  and  the 
sickening  sense  of  horror.  The  saddest  part  of  the 
whole  story  for  me  was  the  knowledge  that  the  catas- 
trophe was  unnecessary,  that  it  might  have  been 
avoided.  My  men  and  I  have  been  cold  and  have  been 
near  to  starvation  in  the  Arctic,  when  cold  and  hunger 


KNOCKING  AT  THE  GATEWAY    95 

were  inevitable;  but  the  horrors  of  Cape  Sabine  were 
not  inevitable.  They  are  a  blot  upon  the  record  of 
American  arctic  exploration. 

From  Cape  Sabine  north  there  was  so  much  open 
water  that  we  thought  of  setting  the  lug  sail  before 
the  southerly  wind;  but  a  little  later  the  appearance 
of  ice  to  the  north  caused  us  to  change  our  minds. 
About  sixty  miles  north  of  Etah,  we  came  to  a  dead 
stop  in  the  ice  pack  off  Victoria  Head.  There  we  lay 
for  hours;  but  the  time  was  not  altogether  wasted,  for 
we  filled  our  tanks  with  ice  from  a  floe. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  out,  the  wind 
came  on  strong  from  the  south,  and  we  slowly  drifted 
northward  with  the  ice.  After  some  hours,  the  wind 
began  to  form  pools  of  open  water  through  the  pack, 
and  we  steamed  westward  toward  the  land,  with  the 
spray  flying  clear  across  the  decks.  An  Eskimo  de- 
clared that  this  was  the  devil  spitting  at  us.  After  a 
few  miles,  we  ran  into  denser  ice  and  stopped  again. 

Dr.  Goodsell,  MacMillan  and  Borup  were  busy 
storing  food  and  medical  supplies  in  the  boats,  to  be 
ready  for  an  emergency.  Had  the  Roosevelt  been 
crushed  by  the  ice  or  sunk,  we  could  have  lowered  the 
boats  at  a  moment's  notice,  fitted  and  equipped  for 
a  voyage,  and  retreated  to  the  Eskimo  country  — 
thence  back  to  civilization  on  some  whaler,  or  in  a 
ship  which  would  have  been  sent  up  with  coal  the 
following  year  by  the  Peary  Arctic  Club,  though  that, 
of  course,  wovdd  have  meant  the  failure  of  the  expe- 
dition. 

In  each  of  the  six  whale-boats  were  placed  a  case 
containing   twelve   six-pound   tins   of  pemmican,   the 


96  THENORTHPOLE 

compressed  meat  food  used  on  arctic  expeditions;  two 
twenty-five  pound  tins  of  biscuit;  two  five-pound  tins 
of  sugar,  a  few  pounds  of  coffee  and  several  cans  of 
condensed  milk;  an  oil  stove  and  five  one-gallon  tins 
of  oil;  a  rifle  with  one  hundred  rounds  of  ammunition 
and  a  shotgun  with  fifty  rounds;  matches,  a  hatchet, 
knives,  a  can  opener,  salt,  needles  and  thread;  and  the 
following  medical  supplies:  catgut  and  needles,  bandages 
and  cotton,  quinine,  astringent  (tannic  acid),  gauze, 
plaster-surgical  liniment,  boracic  acid,  and  dusting 
powder. 

The  boats  were  swung  at  the  davits,  with  a  full 
complement  of  oars,  mast,  sails,  etc.,  and  the  emer- 
gency outfit  above  described  would  have  fitted  them 
for  a  voyage  of  a  week  or  ten  days.  On  leaving  Etah 
the  essential  items  of  supplies,  such  as  tea,  coffee, 
sugar,  oil,  pemmican,  and  biscuit,  had  been  stowed 
on  deck,  close  to  the  rail  on  both  sides,  ready  instantly 
to  be  thrown  over  the  rail  onto  the  ice,  in  case  the 
ship  should  be  crushed. 

Every  person  on  board,  both  the  men  of  the  ship 
and  the  Eskimos,  was  ready  with  a  little  bundle  packed 
to  get  right  over  the  side  at  a  moment's  notice,  after 
lowering  the  boats  and  throwing  onto  the  ice  the  essen- 
tial supplies  stowed  near  the  ship's  rail.  Nobody  thought 
of  undressing  regularly;  and  the  bathtub  in  my  cabin 
might  as  well  have  been  a  trunk,  for  all  the  time  I 
dared  to  spend  in  it  between  Etah  and  Cape  Sheridan. 


CHAPTER  XI 

CLOSE   QUAETERS   WITH   THE   ICE 

THAT  no  time  should  be  lost  on  the  upward 
voyage,  and  also  that  my  Eskimos  might 
not  have  too  much  leisure  in  which  to  con- 
sider the  dangers  which  constantly  threatened  their 
floating  home,  I  kept  them  all  busy.  The  men  were 
put  to  work  making  sledges  and  dog-harness,  so  that 
when  we  reached  Cape  Sheridan — if  we  reached  it, — 
we  might  be  ready  for  the  fall  hunting.  I  had  on 
board  the  raw  materials,  and  each  Eskimo  built  a 
sledge  for  himself,  putting  his  best  work  into  it.  This 
pride  of  the  Eskimo  in  personal  achievement  has  been 
of  great  service  to  me,  and  has  been  encouraged  by 
special  prizes  and  special  praise. 

The  Eskimo  women  were  put  to  work  on  our  win- 
ter garments  as  soon  as  possible  after  leaving  Etah, 
so  that,  in  the  event  of  our  losing  the  ship,  every  man 
would  have  a  comfortable  outfit.  In  the  North  we 
wear  practically  the  same  clothing  as  the  Eskimos, 
including  the  fur  stockings  with  the  fur  on  the  inside. 
Otherwise  we  should  have  frozen  feet  often  instead 
of  only  occasionally.  A  man  who  could  not  live 
without  silk  stockings  would  not  be  likely  to  attempt 
the  North  Pole.  As  we  had  altogether,  including 
the  Eskimos,  sixty-nine  persons  on  board  the  ship  — 
men,  women,  and  children  —  it  will  be  seen  that  there 

97 


98  THENORTHPOLE 

was  considerable  sewing  to  be  done.  Old  garments 
had  to  be  overhauled  and  mended,  and  new  ones 
made. 

The  worst  of  the  ice  fighting  did  not  begin  immedi- 
ately, and  the  new  members  of  the  expedition,  Mac- 
Millan,  Borup,  and  Dr.  Goodsell,  were  at  first  much 
interested  in  watching  the  Eskimo  women  at  their 
sewing.  They  sit  on  anything  that  is  convenient,  a 
chair,  a  platform,  or  the  floor.  In  their  own  quarters 
they  remove  their  footgear,  put  up  one  foot,  and  hold 
one  end  of  the  fabric  between  their  toes,  sewing  a 
seam  over  and  over  from  them,  instead  of  toward 
them,  as  our  women  do.  The  foot  of  an  Eskimo 
woman  is  a  sort  of  third  hand,  and  the  work  is  gripped 
between  the  great  toe  and  the  second  toe. 

The  Eskimo  women  have  great  confidence  in  their 
own  skill  at  garment-making,  and  they  take  sugges- 
tions from  the  inexperienced  white  men  with  a  good- 
natured  and  superior  tolerance.  When  one  of  the 
northern  belles  was  shaping  a  garment  for  Bartlett 
to  wear  on  the  spring  sledge  journey,  he  anxiously 
urged  her  to  give  him  plenty  of  room.  Her  reply 
was  a  mixed  Eskimo  and  English  equivalent  for: 

"You  just  trust  me,  Captain!  When  you  get  out 
on  the  road  to  the  Nor  Pol,  you'll  need  a  draw-string 
in  your  jacket,  and  not  gussets."  She  had  seen  me 
and  my  men  come  back  from  previous  sledge  jour-  * 
neys,  and  she  knew  the  effect  of  long  continued  fatigue 
and  scanty  rations  in  making  a  man's  clothes  fit  him 
loosely. 

The  Eskimos  had  the  run  of  the  ship,  but  the  port 
side  of  the  forward  deck  house  was  given  to  them 


CLOSE   QUARTERS   WITH   ICE      99 

entirely.  A  wide  platform  three  or  four  feet  high, 
made  of  packing  boxes,  was  placed  around  the  wall 
of  the  deck  house  for  them  to  sleep  on.  Each  family 
had  its  own  quarters,  partitioned  off  by  planks,  and 
screened  in  front  by  a  curtain.  They  cooked  their 
own  meat  and  whatever  else  they  desired,  though 
Percy,  the  ship's  steward,  provided  them  with  tea 
and  coffee.  If  they  had  baked  beans,  or  hash,  or 
anything  of  that  kind  from  the  ship's  store,  it  was 
cooked  for  them  by  Percy;  and  he  also  furnished  them 
with  his  famous  bread,  which  for  lightness  and  crisp- 
ness  is  unsurpassed  in  the  round  world. 

The  Eskimos  seemed  always  to  be  eating.  There 
was  no  table  for  the  crowd  of  them,  as  they  do  not 
incline  to  regular  meal  hours;  but  each  family  ate  by 
itself,  as  appetite  dictated.  I  gave  them  pots,  pans, 
plates,  cups,  saucers,  knives,  forks,  and  oil  stoves. 
They  had  access  to  the  ship's  galley,  day  and  night; 
but  Percy  was  always  amiable,  and  the  Eskimos  at 
length  learned  not  to  wash  their  hands  in  the  water 
in  which  he  purposed  to  boil  meat. 

The  third  day  out  the  weather  was  villainous. 
It  rained  steadily,  and  there  was  a  strong  southerly 
wind.  The  group  of  dogs  on  the  main  deck  stood 
about  with  low,  dejected  heads  and  dripping  tails. 
Only  at  feeding  time  did  they  take  courage  even  to 
fight  or  snap  at  one  another.  Most  of  the  time  the 
ship  was  stationary,  or  drifting  slowly  with  the  ice 
toward  the  mouth  of  Dobbin  Bay.  When  at  last 
the  ice  loosened,  we  made  about  ten  miles  in  open 
water  —  then  the  wheel  rope  broke,  and  we  had  to 
stop   for   repairs,   unable   to   take   advantage   of   the 


100  THENORTHPOLE 

stretch  of  water  still  before  us.  The  captain's  remarks 
when  the  strands  of  that  cable  parted  I  will  leave  to 
the  imagination  of  the  reader.  Had  the  accident 
occurred  at  a  time  when  the  ship  was  between  two 
big  floes,  the  fortress  of  the  North  Pole  might  still 
remain  uncaptured.  It  was  after  midnight  before 
we  got  under  way,  and  half  an  hour  later  we  were 
stopped  again  by  the  impassable  ice. 

On  the  fourth  day  we  lay  quiet  all  day  long,  with 
a  slight  breeze  from  Princess  Marie  Bay  setting  us 
slowly  eastward;  but,  as  the  sun  was  shining,  we  util- 
ized the  time  in  drying  our  clothing,  wet  and  soggy 
from  the  almost  continuous  rain  and  snow  of  the  pre- 
vious two  days.  As  it  was  still  summertime  in  the 
Arctic,  we  did  not  suffer  from  cold.  The  pools  be- 
tween the  ice  floes  were  slowly  enlarging,  and  at  nine 
in  the  evening  we  were  on  our  way  again,  but  at  eleven 
we  ran  into  a  thick  fog.  All  night  we  bored  and  twisted 
through  the  ice,  which,  though  thick,  was  not  heavy 
for  the  Roosevelt,  and  only  once  or  twice  we  had  to 
back  her.  An  ordinary  ship  could  have  made  no  head- 
way whatever. 

Wardwell,  the  chief  engineer,  stood  his  eight-hour 
or  twelve-hour  watch  the  same  as  his  assistants, 
and  during  the  passage  of  these  dangerous  channels 
he  was  nearly  always  in  the  engine-room,  watching 
the  machinery  to  see  that  no  part  of  it  got  out  of  order 
at  a  crucial  moment  —  which  would  have  meant  the 
loss  of  the  ship.  When  we  were  between  two  big 
floes,  forcing  our  way  through,  I  would  call  down 
the  tube  leading  from  the  bridge  to  the  engine- 
room: 


CLOSE   QUARTERS   WITH   ICE    101 

"Chief,  you've  got  to  keep  her  moving  until  I 
give  you  word,  no  matter  what  happens." 

Sometimes  the  ship  would  get  stuck  between  the 
corners  of  two  floes  which  were  slowly  coming  together. 
At  such  a  time  a  minute  is  an  eternity.  I  would  call 
down  the  tube  to  Wardwell,  "You've  got  to  jump  her 
now,  the  length  of  fifty  yards,"  or  whatever  it  might 
be.  And  I  could  feel  the  ship  shaking  under  me  as 
she  seemed  to  take  the  flying  leap,  under  the  impulse 
of  live  steam  poured  directly  from  the  boilers  into  the 
fifty-two-inch  low-pressure  cylinder. 

The  engines  of  the  Roosevelt  have  what  is  called 
a  by-pass,  by  which  the  live  steam  can  be  turned  into 
the  big  cylinder,  more  than  doubling  the  power  of 
the  engines  for  a  few  minutes.  This  simple  bit  of 
mechanism  has  saved  us  from  being  crushed  flat  by 
the  ice  on  more  than  one  occasion. 

The  destruction  of  a  ship  between  two  ice  floes  is 
not  sudden,  like  her  destruction  by  a  submarine  mine, 
for  instance.  It  is  a  slow  and  gradually  increasing 
pressure  from  both  sides,  sometimes  till  the  ice  meets 
in  the  vitals  of  the  ship.  A  vessel  might  stay  thus, 
suspended  between  two  floes,  for  twenty-four  hours 
—  or  until  the  movement  of  the  tides  relaxed  the  pres- 
sure, when  she  would  sink.  The  ice  might  open  at 
first  just  suflBciently  to  let  the  hull  go  down,  and  the 
ends  of  the  yards  might  catch  on  the  ice  and  break, 
with  the  weight  of  the  water-filled  hull,  as  was  the  case 
with  the  ill-fated  Jeannette.  One  ship,  in  the  Gulf 
of  St.  Lawrence,  was  caught  in  the  ice  and  dragged 
over  the  rocks  like  a  nutmeg  over  a  nutmeg  grater. 
The  bottom  was  sliced  oflf  as  one  would  slice  a  cucumber 


102  THENORTHPOLE 

with  a  knife,  so  that  the  iron  blubber  tanks  in  the  hold 
dropped  out  of  her.  The  ship  became  nothing  but 
the  sides  and  ends  of  a  box.  She  remained  some  twenty- 
four  hours,  gripped  between  the  floes,  and  then  went 
down. 

On  the  22d  of  August,  the  fifth  day,  our  lucky 
stars  must  have  been  working  overtime;  for  we  made 
a  phenomenal  rim  —  more  than  a  hundred  miles, 
right  up  the  middle  of  Kennedy  Channel,  uninter- 
rupted by  ice  or  fog!  At  midnight  the  sun  burst 
gloriously  through  the  clouds,  just  over  Cape  Lieber. 
It  seemed  a  happy  omen. 

Could  such  good  fortune  continue?  Though  my 
hopes  were  high,  the  experience  of  former  journeys 
reminded  me  that  the  brightest  coin  has  always  a 
reverse  side.  In  a  day  we  had  run  the  whole  length 
of  Kennedy  Channel,  and  immediately  before  us  there 
was  only  scattered  ice.  But  beyond  lay  Robeson 
Channel,  only  some  thirty  miles  away,  and  the  navi- 
gator who  knows  Robeson  Channel  will  never  be 
sanguine  that  it  has  anything  good  in  store  for 
him. 

Soon  we  encountered  both  ice  and  fog,  and,  while 
working  slowly  along  in  search  of  an  opening,  we 
were  forced  clear  across  to  the  Greenland  coast  at 
Thank  God  Harbor,  the  winter  quarters  of  the  Fo- 
laris  in  1871-72.  I  have  mentioned  the  lane  of 
water  which  often  lies  at  ebb  tide  between  the  land 
and  the  moving  central  pack;  but  the  reader  must  not 
fancy  that  this  is  an  unobstructed  lane.  On  the 
contrary,  its  passage  means  constant  butting  of  the 
smaller  ice,  and  constant  dodging  of  larger  pieces. 


CLOSE   QUARTERS   WITH   ICE    103 

Of  course  the  steam  is  up  at  all  times,  ready,  like 
ourselves,  for  anything  at  a  moment's  notice.  When 
the  ice  is  not  so  heavy  as  to  be  utterly  impenetrable, 
the  ship  under  full  steam  moves  back  and  forth  con- 
tinually, butting  and  charging  the  floes.  Sometimes 
a  charge  will  send  the  ship  forward  half  her  length, 
sometimes  her  whole  length  —  sometimes  not  an  inch. 
When,  with  all  the  steam  of  the  boilers,  we  can  make 
no  headway  whatever,  we  wait  for  the  ice  to  loosen 
up,  and  economize  our  coal.  We  do  not  mind  using 
the  ship  as  a  battering  ram  —  that  is  what  she  was  made 
for;  but  beyond  Etah  coal  is  precious,  and  every  ounce 
of  it  must  yield  its  full  return  of  northward  steaming. 
The  coal  at  present  in  our  bunkers  was  all  that  we 
should  have  until  our  return  the  following  year,  when 
the  Peary  Arctic  Club  would  send  a  ship  to  meet  us 
at  Etah. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  during  all  this  time 
we  were  in  the  region  of  constant  daylight,  in  the 
season  of  the  midnight  sun.  Sometimes  the  weather 
was  foggy,  sometimes  cloudy,  sometimes  sunny;  but 
there  was  no  darkness.  The  periods  of  day  and  night 
were  measured  only  by  our  watches  —  not,  during 
the  passage  of  these  channels,  by  sleeping  and  waking, 
for  we  slept  only  in  those  brief  intervals  when  there 
was  nothing  else  to  do.  Unresting  vigilance  was  the 
price  we  paid  for  our  passage. 

Bartlett's  judgment  was  reliable,  but  the  cabin 
had  no  attraction  for  me  when  the  ship  and  the 
fortunes  of  the  expedition  were  swaying  in  the 
balance.  Then,  too,  when  the  ship  was  butting 
the  ice,  the  shock  of  the   impact  would  have  made 


104  THENORTHPOLE 

Morpheus  himself  sit  up  and  rub  his  eyes  every  few 
minutes. 

Owing  to  the  stupendous  and  resistless  character 
of  the  heavier  ice,  a  ship  would  be  utterly  helpless 
if  she  were  ever  caught  fairly  and  squarely  between 
two  giant  floes.  In  such  a  case  there  would  be  no 
escape  for  any  structure  which  man  could  design  or 
build.  More  than  once  a  brief  nip  between  two  big 
blue  floes  has  set  the  whole  one  hundred  and  eighty- 
four-foot  length  of  the  Roosevelt  vibrating  like  a  violin 
string.  At  other  times,  under  the  pressure  on  the  cylin- 
ders of  the  by-pass  before  described,  the  vessel  would 
rear  herself  upon  the  ice  like  a  steeplechaser  taking  a 
fence.  It  was  a  glorious  battle  —  this  charging  of 
the  ship  against  man's  coldest  enemy  and  possibly 
his  oldest,  for  there  is  no  calculating  the  age  of  this 
glacial  ice.  Sometimes,  as  the  steel-shod  stem  of 
the  Roosevelt  split  a  floe  squarely  in  two,  the  riven 
ice  would  emit  a  savage  snarl  that  seemed  to  have 
behind  it  all  the  rage  of  the  invaded  immemorial  Arctic 
struggling  with  the  self-willed  intruder,  man.  Some- 
times, when  the  ship  was  in  special  peril,  the  Eskimos 
on  board  would  set  up  their  strange  barbaric  chant 
—  calling  on  the  souls  of  their  ancestors  to  come  from 
the  invisible  realm  and  help  us. 

Often  on  this  last  expedition  of  the  Roosevelt,  as  on 
the  former  one,  have  I  seen  a  fireman  come  up  from  the 
bowels  of  the  ship,  panting  for  a  breath  of  air,  take 
one  look  at  the  sheet  of  ice  before  us,  and  mutter 
savagely: 

"By  God,  she's  got  to  go  through!" 

Then  he  would  drop  again  into  the  stoke  hole,  and 


CAPTAIN  BARTLETT  IN  THK  CROW  S  NEST 


CLOSE   QUARTERS   WITH   ICE    105 

a  moment  later  an  extra  puff  of  black  smoke  would 
rise  from  the  stack,  and  I  knew  the  steam  pressure 
was  going  up. 

During  the  worst  parts  of  the  journey,  Bartlett 
spent  most  of  his  time  in  the  crow's  nest,  the  barrel 
lookout  at  the  top  of  the  main  mast.  I  would  climb 
up  into  the  rigging  just  below  the  crow's  nest,  where 
I  could  see  ahead  and  talk  to  Bartlett,  backing  up 
his  opinion  with  my  own,  when  necessary,  to  relieve 
him,  in  the  more  dangerous  places,  of  too  great  a  weight 
of  responsibility. 

Clinging  with  Bartlett,  high  up  in  the  vibrating 
rigging,  peering  far  ahead  for  a  streak  of  open  water, 
studying  the  movement  of  the  floes  which  pressed 
against  us,  I  would  hear  him  shouting  to  the  ship 
below  us  as  if  coaxing  her,  encouraging  her,  commanding 
her  to  hammer  a  way  for  us  through  the  adamantine 
floes: 

"Rip  'em,  Teddy!  Bite  'em  in  two!  Go  it! 
That's  fine,  my  beauty !     Now  —  again !     Once  more ! " 

At  such  a  time  the  long  generations  of  ice  and  ocean 
fighters  behind  this  brave,  indomitable  young  New- 
foundland captain  seemed  to  be  re-living  in  him  the 
strenuous  days  that  carried  the  flag  of  England  'round 
the  world. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   ICE   FIGHT   GOES   ON 

TO  recount  all  the  incidents  of  this  upward 
journey  of  the  Roosevelt  would  require  a 
volume.  When  we  were  not  fighting  the  ice, 
we  were  dodging  it,  or  —  worse  still  —  waiting  in 
some  niche  of  the  shore  for  an  opportunity  to  do  more 
fighting.  On  Sunday,  the  sixth  day  out  from  Etah, 
the  water  continued  fairly  open,  and  we  made  good 
progress  until  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  we 
were  held  up  by  the  ice  pack  as  we  were  nearing  Lin- 
coln Bay.  A  cable  was  run  out,  and  the  ship  secured 
to  a  great  floe,  which  extended  some  two  miles  to  the 
north  and  several  to  the  east.  The  tide,  which  was 
running  north  at  the  time,  had  carried  the  smaller  ice 
with  it,  leaving  the  Roosevelt  in  a  sort  of  lake.  While 
we  were  resting  there,  some  of  the  men  observed  a 
black  object  far  out  on  the  great  ice  floe  to  which  we 
were  attached,  and  Dr.  Goodsell  and  Borup,  with  two 
Eskimos,  started  out  to  investigate.  This  walking 
across  the  floes  is  dangerous,  as  the  ice  is  full  of  cracks, 
some  of  them  quite  wide,  and  on  the  day  in  question 
the  cracks  were  for  the  most  part  concealed  by  a  recent 
snowfall.  In  jumping  across  a  lead,  the  men  had  a 
narrow  escape  from  drowning,  and  when  they  got  within 
shooting  distance  of  the  black  object  they  were  seeking, 
it  proved  to  be  only  a  block  of  stone. 

106 


THE   ICE   FIGHT  GOES   ON      107 

Before  the  return  of  Borup  and  the  doctor  the  ice 
had  already  begun  to  close  in  around  the  ship  and,  as 
soon  as  the  men  were  safe  on  board,  the  cable  was 
hauled  in  and  the  Roosevelt  drifted  south  with  the 
pack.  So  close  was  the  ice  that  night,  that  we  had 
to  swing  the  boats  inward  on  the  davits  to  protect 
them  from  the  great  floes,  which  at  times  crowded 
the  rail.  Finally,  the  captain  worked  the  ship  into 
another  small  lake  to  the  southeast  of  our  former  posi- 
tion by  the  great  floe,  and  there  we  remained  several 
hours,  steaming  back  and  forth  in  order  to  keep  the 
pool  open. 

About  eleven  o'clock  that  night,  for  all  our  efforts, 
the  ice  closed  in  again  around  the  Roosevelt;  but  I 
observed  a  small  lead  to  the  southeast,  which  led 
into  another  body  of  open  water,  and  gave  orders  to 
ram  the  vessel  through,  if  possible.  By  working  the 
nose  of  the  ship  into  the  small  opening,  and  then  by 
butting  the  ice  on  alternate  sides,  we  succeeded  in 
widening  the  lead  sufficiently  to  allow  of  our  passing 
through  to  the  pool  of  open  water  beyond. 

At  four  o'clock  the  next  morning  we  were  again 
under  way,  working  northward  through  slack  ice  to  a 
point  a  little  beyond  Shelter  River,  where  we  were 
again  stopped  by  ice  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  forenoon. 
The  Roosevelt  moved  in  near  the  shore  and  her  head 
was  shoved  against  a  big  floe,  to  avoid  her  being  jammed 
or  carried  southward  by  the  now  swiftly  running  tide 
and  the  ice  pack. 

After  supper  that  night,  MacMillan,  Borup,  and 
Dr.  Goodsell,  with  two  Eskimos,  started  for  the  shore 
over  the  jammed  ice,  with  the  intention  of  getting 


108  THENORTHPOLE 

some  game;  but  before  they  reached  the  shore  there 
was  so  much  movement  in  the  adjacent  floes  that  I 
considered  their  journey  too  hazardous  for  inexperi- 
enced men.  A  recall  was  sounded  with  the  ship's 
whistle,  and  they  started  back  over  the  now  moving 
floes.  Their  movements  were  impeded  by  their  guns, 
but  fortunately  they  carried  boat  hooks,  without 
which  they  could  never  have  made  their  way  back. 

Using  the  boat  hooks  as  vaulting  poles,  they  leaped 
from  one  floe  to  another,  when  the  leads  were  not  too 
wide.  When  the  open  water  was  impassable  in  that 
way,  they  crossed  it  on  small  floating  pieces  of  ice, 
using  their  hooks  to  push  and  pull  themselves  along. 
First  the  doctor  slipped  on  the  edge  of  a  floe,  and 
went  into  the  icy  water  to  the  waist,  but  he  was  quickly 
hauled  up  by  Borup.  Then  Borup  slipped  and  went 
in  to  the  waist,  but  he  was  out  again  as  quickly. 

Meanwhile  the  ice  had  separated  about  the  Roose- 
velt, leaving  a  wide  lane  of  water  between  her  and  the 
men;  but  by  running  the  ship  against  one  of  the  larger 
floes,  we  enabled  them  to  clamber  aboard.  They  lost 
no  time  in  exchanging  their  wet  garments  for  dry  ones, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  all  laughing  and  re- 
counting their  exploits  to  an  interested  —  and  pos- 
sibly amused  —  group  of  listeners. 

A  man  who  could  not  laugh  at  a  wetting  or  take  as 
a  matter  of  course  a  dangerous  passage  over  moving 
ice,  would  not  be  a  man  for  a  serious  arctic  expedition. 
It  was  with  a  feeling  of  intense  satisfaction  that  I 
watched  these  three  men,  MacMillan,  Borup,  and  Dr. 
Goodsell,  my  arctic  "tenderfeet,"  as  I  called  them, 
proving  the  mettle  of  which  they  were  made. 


THE   ICE   FIGHT   GOES   ON      109 

I  had  selected  these  three  men  from  among  a  host 
of  applicants  for  membership  in  the  expedition,  because 
of  the  special  fitness  of  each  one.  Dr.  Goodsell  was 
a  solid,  sturdy,  self-made  physician  of  Pennsylvania 
stock.  His  specialism  in  microscopy  I  trusted  might 
give  valuable  results  in  a  field  not  hitherto  investi- 
gated in  the  North.  He  was  to  make  microscopic  studies 
of  the  germ  diseases  of  the  Eskimos. 

MacMillan,  a  trained  athlete  and  physical  in- 
structor, I  had  known,  and  known  about,  for  years.  I 
chose  him  because  of  his  intense  interest  in  the  work, 
his  intense  desire  to  be  of  the  party,  and  his  evident 
mental  and  physical  fitness  for  the  rigorous  demands 
of  the  Arctic. 

Borup,  the  youngest  member  of  the  party,  impressed 
me  with  his  enthusiasm  and  physical  abilities.  He  had 
a  record  as  a  Yale  runner,  and  I  took  him  on  general 
principles,  because  I  liked  him,  satisfied  that  he  was 
of  the  right  stuff  for  arctic  work.  It  was  a  fortunate 
selection,  as  the  photographs  brought  back  by  the 
expedition  are  due  in  a  large  measure  to  his  expert 
knowledge  of  film  developing. 

I  have  been  asked  how  the  members  of  my  party 
amused  themselves  during  the  long  waits,  when  the 
ship  was  held  up  by  the  ice.  The  principal  amusement 
of  the  new  members  was  in  trying  to  acquire  from  the 
Eskimos  on  board  a  smattering  of  their  language.  As 
interpreter,  they  had  Matt  Henson.  Sometimes,  look- 
ing down  from  the  bridge  of  the  ship  onto  the  main 
deck,  I  would  see  one  of  these  new  men  surrounded  by 
a  group  of  Eskimos,  gesticulating  and  laughing,  and  I 
knew  that  a  language  lesson  was  in  progress.     The 


no  THENORTHPOLE 

women  were  delighted  at  the  opportunity  to  teach 
Borup  the  Eskimo  words  for  jacket,  hood,  boots, 
sky,  water,  food,  et  cetera,  as  they  seemed  to  be  of 
the  opinion  that  he  was  a  fine  boy. 

The  Roosevelt  lay  quietly  in  open  water  all  night 
on  the  24th  of  August,  but  in  the  forenoon  of  the  25th 
steamed  northward  nearly  to  Cape  Union.  Beyond 
there  the  ice  was  densely  packed.  I  climbed  up  into 
the  rigging  to  take  a  look  but,  finding  no  suitable 
shelter,  decided  to  turn  back  to  Lincoln  Bay,  where 
we  made  the  ship  fast  between  two  grounded  ice 
floes.  The  day  before  had  been  calm  and  sunny,  but 
the  25th  was  snowy  and  disagreeable,  with  a  raw 
northerly  wind.  The  snow  was  driving  in  horizontal 
sheets  across  the  decks,  the  water  was  black  as  ink, 
the  ice  a  spectral  white,  and  the  coast  near  us  looked 
like  the  shores  of  the  land  of  ghosts.  One  of  our  berg 
pieces  was  carried  away  by  the  flood  tide,  and  we 
were  obliged  to  shift  our  position  to  the  inner  side  of 
the  other  one;  but  there  were  other  grounded  bergs 
outside  us  to  take  the  impact  of  the  larger  floes. 

On  general  principles,  I  landed  a  cache  of  sup- 
plies at  this  point  on  the  following  day.  The  pos- 
sibility of  losing  the  ship  was  always  present;  but  if 
everything  went  well  the  cache  could  be  made  use  of 
in  the  hunting  season.  The  supplies,  in  their  wooden 
boxes,  were  simply  piled  upon  the  shore.  Wandering 
arctic  hares,  reindeer,  and  musk-oxen  never  attempt 
to  regale  themselves  on  tin  cans  or  wooden  boxes. 

I  went  ashore  and  walked  over  to  Shelter  River, 
living  over  again  the  experiences  there  in  1906,  when, 
during  my  absence  at  Cape  Thomas  Hubbard,  Captain 


THE   ICE   FIGHT   GOES   ON      111 

Bartlett  —  for  he  was  then,  as  now,  the  master  of  the 
Roosevelt  —  had  tried  to  drive  the  ship  south  from  her 
exposed  position  at  Cape  Sheridan  to  a  more  sheltered 
place  in  Lincoln  Bay,  where  I  was  to  rejoin  them. 

At  Shelter  River,  the  Roosevelt  had  been  caught 
between  the  moving  pack  and  the  vertical  face  of  the 
ice-foot,  receiving  almost  a  fatal  blow.  She  had  been 
lifted  bodily  out  of  the  water,  the  stern-post  and  rudder 
smashed  into  kindling  wood,  and  a  blade  ripped  off 
the  propeller.  Everything  was  landed  from  the  vessel 
in  the  expectation  that  when  the  ice  slacked  off  and 
she  settled  into  the  water,  she  would  be  leaking  so 
badly  it  would  be  impossible  to  keep  her  afloat. 

Bartlett  and  his  men  worked  manfully  in  stopping 
the  leaks,  as  far  as  possible;  and  when  the  pressure 
from  the  ice  was  partially  released,  the  ship  was 
floated.  But  she  lay  there  nearly  a  month,  and  twice 
during  that  time  even  the  rigging  of  the  ship  was 
landed,  when  it  seemed  impossible  that  she  could 
survive. 

Here  at  Shelter  River  I  had  found  the  Roosevelt 
on  my  return  from  "farthest  west."  A  new  rudder 
was  improvised,  and  the  crippled  and  almost  helpless 
ship  floated  around  into  Lincoln  Bay,  whence  she 
finally  limped  home  to  New  York. 

After  an  hour  of  retrospection  at  this  place  I 
walked  back  to  the  ship.  Borup  and  MacMillan  had 
also  gone  ashore,  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  game  but 
had  not  found  any.  It  was  a  dull,  raw,  overcast  day 
and  MacMillan,  Borup,  the  doctor,  and  Gushue,  the 
mate,  amused  themselves  by  target-shooting  with 
their  Winchesters. 


112  THENORTHPOLE 

The  next  day  was  seemingly  endless,  and  still  we 
lay  there  at  Lincoln  Bay,  with  a  strong,  raw,  northeast 
wind  blowing  steadily  and  with  increasing  violence. 
The  edge  of  the  moving  pack  was  only  a  few  yards 
from  the  ship,  but  we  were  fairly  well  protected  by 
large  pieces  which  had  grounded  outside  of  us.  Every 
little  while  a  big  floe  came  rushing  past,  crowding 
everything  out  of  its  way  and  giving  our  protectors 
a  shove  that  set  them  and  us  nearer  the  shore.  Prom 
the  crow's  nest  we  could  see  a  little  open  water  near 
the  east  coast  of  the  channel,  but  there  was  none  in 
our  vicinity  —  only  ice,  ice,  ice,  of  every  imaginable 
shape  and  thickness. 

Still  another  day,  and  the  Roosevelt  was  in  the 
same  position,  with  the  ice  crowding  against  her;  but 
at  the  crest  of  the  high  tide  the  grounded  floe-berg 
to  which  we  were  attached  by  cable  went  adrift,  and 
we  all  hurried  on  deck.  The  lines  were  hastily  detached 
from  the  berg.  As  the  ice  went  south,  it  left  a  stretch 
of  open  water  before  us  about  a  mile  long,  and  we 
steamed  northward  along  the  shore,  pushing  our  way 
behind  the  grounded  bergs,  trying  to  find  another 
niche  where  we  might  be  secure  from  the  now  rapidly 
approaching  pack. 

It  was  well  for  us  that  the  wind  was  blowing  vio- 
lently off  shore,  as  it  eased  the  pressure  of  the  pack 
against  us.  One  place  seemed  secure,  and  we  were 
making  ready  to  attach  the  cables,  when  an  ice-floe, 
about  an  acre  in  extent  with  a  sharp,  projecting  point 
like  the  ram  of  a  battleship,  came  surging  along  toward 
the  Roosevelt,  and  we  were  obliged  to  shift  our  position. 
Before  the  ship  was  secured,  she  was  again  threatened 


THE   ICE   FIGHT   GOES   ON     113 

by  the  same  floe,  which  seemed  to  be  endowed  with 
malign  inteUigenee  and  to  follow  us  like  a  bloodhound. 
We  retired  to  still  another  position,  and  secured  the 
vessel  and  finally  the  threatening  floe  passed  onwards 
to  the  south. 

There  was  no  sleep  for  any  one  that  sunlit  night. 
About  ten  o'clock  the  berg  fragment  to  which  we  were 
attached  drifted  loose  under  the  pressure  of  the  furious 
wind  and  the  rising  tide.  In  contracted  space,  with 
the  ice  whirling  and  eddying  about  us,  we  hastily  got 
our  lines  in  and  shifted  to  another  place,  only  to  be 
driven  out  of  it.  We  sought  still  another  place  of 
shelter,  and  in  turn  were  also  driven  out  of  that.  A 
third  attempt  to  find  safety  was  successful,  but  before 
it  was  accomplished  the  Roosevelt  had  twice  been 
aground  forward,  her  heel  had  been  caught  by  a  berg's 
spur,  and  her  after  rail  smashed  by  the  onslaught  of 
another  berg. 

Saturday,  the  29th,  was  another  day  of  delay  but 
I  found  some  comfort  in  thinking  of  my  little  son  in 
the  far-away  home.  It  was  his  fifth  birthday,  and 
Percy,  Matt,  and  I,  his  three  chums,  drank  a  bottle 
of  champagne  in  his  honor.  Robert  E.  Peary,  Junior! 
What  were  they  doing  at  home?  I  wondered. 

I  think  that  none  of  the  members  of  the  expedition 
will  ever  forget  the  following  day,  the  30th  of  August. 
The  Roosevelt  was  kicked  about  by  the  floes  as  if  she 
had  been  a  football.  The  game  began  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  I  was  in  my  cabin  trying  to 
get  a  little  sleep  —  with  my  clothes  on,  for  I  had  not 
dared  to  remove  them  for  a  week.  My  rest  was  cut 
short  by  a  shock  so  violent  that,   before  I  realized 


114  THENORTHPOLE 

that  anything  had  happened,  I  found  myself  on  deck 
—  a  deck  that  inclined  to  starboard  some  twelve  or 
fifteen  degrees.  I  ran,  or  rather  climbed  the  deck,  to 
the  port  side  and  saw  what  had  happened.  A  big 
floe,  rushing  past  with  the  current,  had  picked  up 
the  grounded  berg  to  which  we  were  attached  by  the 
hawsers,  as  if  that  thousand-ton  berg  had  been  a  toy, 
and  dashed  it  against  the  Roosevelt  and  clear  along  her 
port  side,  smashing  a  big  hole  in  the  bulwarks  at 
Marvin's  room.  The  berg  brought  up  against  another 
one  just  aft  of  us,  and  the  Roosevelt  slipped  from 
between  the  two  like  a  greased  pig. 

As  soon  as  the  pressure  was  relaxed  and  the  ship 
regained  an  even  keel,  we  discovered  that  the  cable 
which  had  been  attached  to  the  floe-berg  at  the  stern 
had  become  entangled  with  the  propeller.  It  was  a 
time  for  lightning  thought  and  action;  but  by  attach- 
ing a  heavier  cable  to  the  parted  one  and  taking  a  hitch 
round  the  steam  capstan,  we  finally  disentangled  it. 

This  excitement  was  no  sooner  over  than  a  great 
berg  that  was  passing  near  us  split  in  two  of  its  own  ac- 
cord, a  cube  some  twenty -five  or  thirty  feet  in  diameter 
dropping  toward  the  ship,  and  missing  our  quarter 
by  only  a  foot  or  two.  "Bergs  to  the  right  of  them, 
bergs  to  the  left  of  them,  bergs  on  top  of  them,"  I 
heard  somebody  say,  as  we  caught  our  breath  at  this 
miraculous  escape. 

The  ship  was  now  quite  at  the  mercy  of  the  drifting 
ice,  and  with  the  pressure  from  the  outer  pack  the  Roose- 
velt again  careened  to  starboard.  I  knew  that  if  she 
were  driven  any  higher  upon  the  shore,  we  should  have 
to  discharge  a  large  part  of  the  coal  in  order  to  lighten 


THE   ICE   FIGHT   GOES   ON     115 

her  suflBciently  to  get  her  off  again.  So  I  decided  to 
dynamite  the  ice. 

I  told  Bartlett  to  get  out  his  batteries  and  dyna- 
mite, and  to  smash  the  ice  between  the  Roosevelt  and 
the  heavy  floes  outside,  making  a  soft  cushion  for  the 
ship  to  rest  on.  The  batteries  were  brought  up  from 
the  lazaret,  one  of  the  dynamite  boxes  lifted  out  with 
caution,  and  Bartlett  and  I  looked  for  the  best  places 
in  the  ice  for  the  charges. 

Several  sticks  of  dynamite  were  wrapped  in  pieces 
of  old  bagging  and  fastened  on  the  end  of  long  spruce 
poles,  which  we  had  brought  along  specially  for  this  pur- 
pose. A  wire  from  the  battery  had,  of  course,  been 
connected  with  one  of  the  primers  buried  in  the  dyna- 
mite. Pole,  wire,  and  dynamite  were  thrust  down 
through  cracks  in  the  ice  at  several  places  in  the 
adjacent  floes.  The  other  end  of  each  wire  was  then 
connected  with  the  battery,  every  one  retreated  to  a 
respectful  distance  on  the  far  side  of  the  deck,  and  a 
quick,  sharp  push  on  the  plunger  of  the  battery  sent 
the  electric  current  along  the  wires 

Rip!  Bang!  Boom!  The  ship  quivered  like  a  smitten 
violin  string,  and  a  column  of  water  and  pieces  of  ice 
went  flying  a  hundred  feet  into  the  air,  geyser  fashion. 

The  pressure  of  the  ice  against  the  ship  being  thus 
removed,  she  righted  herself  and  lay  quietly  on  her 
cushion  of  crushed  ice  —  waiting  for  whatever  might 
happen  next.  As  the  tide  lowered,  the  Roosevelt  was 
bodily  aground  from  amidships  forward,  heeling  first 
to  one  side  and  then  to  the  other  with  the  varying 
pressure  of  the  ice.  It  was  a  new  variation  of  "  Rocked 
in  the  Cradle  of  the  Deep "  —  one  that  sent  Eskimo 


116  THENORTH    POLE 

babies,  the  dogs,  the  boxes,  and  even  ourselves,  tum- 
bUng  about  the  decks. 

When  the  tide  rose,  efforts  were  made  to  dislodge 
the  ship  from  her  stranded  position.  From  the  port 
side  of  the  bow  a  line  was  made  fast  to  a  stationary 
floe-berg,  and  the  captain  called  for  full  steam,  first 
ahead,  then  astern.  For  some  time  there  was  no  per- 
ceptible movement  of  the  ship.  Finally,  the  pull  on 
the  port  bow  from  the  cable,  with  full  speed  astern, 
had  the  desired  effect  and  the  vessel  slid  off  and  floated 
free;  but  the  ice  was  so  heavily  packed  behind  us  that 
we  could  not  move  her  away.  It  was  far  from  a  pleas- 
ant spot. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


CAPE   SHERIDAN  AT   LAST 


TO  put  it  mildly,  the  position  in  which  we  now 
found  ourselves  was  dangerous  —  even  with 
the  assistance  of  so  experienced  and  steady 
an  ice  fighter  as  Bartlett.  As  day  followed  day 
and  still  we  hung  there  at  Lincoln  Bay,  we  should 
doubtless  have  been  extremely  anxious  had  the  Roose- 
velt not  had  a  similar  experience  on  the  preceding 
voyage.  But  we  believed  that  sooner  or  later  the 
movement  of  the  ice  would  enable  us  to  steam  the  few 
remaining  miles  to  Cape  Sheridan,  and  possibly  be- 
yond there;  for  our  objective  point  was  some  twenty- 
five  miles  to  the  northwest  of  our  former  winter 
quarters  in  1905-06.  We  tried  to  possess  our  souls  in 
patience,  and  if  sometimes  the  delay  got  on  our  nerves, 
there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  talking  about  it. 

On  the  first  of  September  the  ice  did  not  seem 
to  be  moving  quite  so  rapidly.  The  evening  before 
MacMillan  had  been  sent  ashore  to  the  bluffs  beyond 
Shelter  River,  and  he  had  reported  that  there  was 
considerable  open  water  along  the  shore.  Bartlett 
then  went  forward  to  reconnoiter.  On  his  return 
he  also  reported  open  water,  but  with  corners  of  big 
floes  barring  it  in  every  direction. 

That  the  fall  hunting  might  get  under  way,  Ootah, 
Aletah,  Ooblooyah,  and  Ookeyah  started  off  for  the 

117 


118  THENORTHPOLE 

Lake  Hazen  region,  with  a  sledge  and  eight  dogs, 
after  musk-oxen  and  reindeer.  It  had  been  planned 
that  they  should  hunt  there  until  joined  by  other 
Eskimos  from  the  ship,  after  she  reached  Cape  Sheri- 
dan or  Porter  Bay.  But  in  the  absence  of  snow,  the 
going  was  too  rough  for  even  a  light  sledge,  and  the 
Eskimos  returned. 

At  last,  a  little  before  midnight  on  the  2d,  we  got 
out  of  the  impasse  at  Lincoln  Bay,  where  we  had  been 
held  up  for  ten  days.  The  cables  were  taken  in,  and 
the  Roosevelt,  steaming  first  forward  and  then  astern, 
extricated  herself  from  the  shore  pack.  We  felt 
as  men  must  feel  who  are  released  from  prison.  There 
was  a  narrow  lane  of  open  water  following  the  shore, 
and  along  that  course  we  steamed,  rounding  Cape 
Union  about  half  an  hour  before  midnight. 

But  we  were  soon  held  up  again  by  the  ice,  a  little 
below  Black  Cape,  a  dark  cone-shaped  mountain 
standing  alone,  on  the  eastern  side  washed  by  the 
waters  of  the  sea,  on  the  west  separated  by  deep  val- 
leys from  the  adjacent  mountains.  It  was  a  scene 
of  indescribable  grandeur,  for  the  coast  was  lined  for 
miles  with  bergs,  forced  shoreward,  broken  and  tilted 
at  right  angles.  At  Black  Cape  we  had  made  half 
the  distance  between  our  former  position  at  Lincoln 
Bay  and  the  longed-for  shelter  at  Cape  Sheridan. 

As  we  made  fast  against  the  land  ice,  a  sixty- 
foot  thick  fragment  of  a  floe  was  driven  with  frightful 
force  up  on  the  shore  a  little  to  the  north  of  us.  Had 
we  been  in  the  way  of  it  —  but  a  navigator  of  these 
channels  must  not  dwell  too  much  on  such  contingen- 
cies. 


CAPE   SHERIDAN    AT  LAST     119 

As  an  extra  precaution,  I  had  the  Eskimos  with 
axes  bevel  off  the  edge  of  the  ice-foot  abreast  of  the 
ship,  to  facilitate  her  rising  if  she  should  be  squeezed 
by  the  heavy  floes  outside.  It  was  snowing  lightly 
all  day  long;  but  I  went  ashore,  walking  along  the  ice- 
foot to  the  next  river,  and  up  to  the  summit  of  Black 
Cape.  An  occasional  walk  on  land  was  a  relief  from 
the  stench  and  disorder  of  the  ship,  for  the  dogs  kept 
the  Roosevelt  in  a  very  unclean  condition.  Many 
persons  have  asked  how  we  could  endure  the  presence 
of  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  dogs  on  the  deck  of 
a  small  ship;  but  every  achievement  has  its  drawbacks, 
and  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  without  the  dogs 
we  could  not  have  reached  the  Pole. 

At  this  point  we  landed  another  cache,  similar  to 
the  one  at  Lincoln  Bay,  to  be  ready  for  anything  that 
might  happen. 

On  the  4th,  the  wind  came  strong  from  the  south, 
and  as  there  seemed  to  be  a  little  open  water  ahead, 
at  eight  in  the  morning  we  started  to  get  out  of  our 
berth.  It  took  an  hour  to  break  up  the  "slob"  ice 
which  had  cemented  about  the  ship.  We  were  happy 
to  be  under  way  again;  but  at  the  delta  just  ahead  of 
us  the  ice  refused  to  open,  the  drift  ice  from  the  south 
was  coming  up  rapidly  before  the  wind,  and  we  were 
compelled  to  hurry  back  to  our  former  berth  below 
Black  Cape.  We  did  not  get  in  again  without  some 
trouble  as  the  strong  wind  made  the  Roosevelt  hard 
to  manage.  The  starboard  quarter  boat  was  badly 
smashed  against  the  corner  of  a  big  berg  piece,  and 
the  starboard  corner  of  the  forward  deck  house  was 
almost  ripped  from  the  decking. 


120  THENORTHPOLE 

But  all  hands  were  stimulated  by  the  thought 
that  we  were  now  only  a  few  miles  from  Cape  Sheri- 
dan —  so  near  our  goal  that  we  were  restless  to  be 
off  again.  That  evening,  with  the  ebb  tide,  the  ice 
slackened,  and  the  order  was  given  to  steam  ahead. 
After  one  or  two  narrow  escapes  between  the  rapidly 
rimning  floes,  we  reached  the  delta  of  Black  Cape 
River,  a  few  miles  beyond  our  former  place.  But  when 
the  tide  turned  we  were  obliged  to  hurry  back  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  shelter  of  a  grounded  berg. 

When  the  hawsers  were  made  fast  I  went  ashore 
and  up  to  the  delta  to  look  at  the  ice  beyond.  Not  a 
crack  or  hole  was  visible  to  the  north,  and  the  path 
by  which  we  had  retreated  to  our  present  position 
was  now  a  sea  of  solid  ice.  Should  we  ever  be  able 
to  make  the  few  remaining  miles? 

The  wind  continued  to  blow  violently  from  the 
south,  the  ice  began  to  slack  off  a  little  behind  us, 
and  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  5th  of 
September  there  was  a  gradually  widening  lead  to 
the  north.  I  felt  that  it  was  now  or  never,  and  the 
order  went  down  for  every  pound  of  steam  and  full 
speed.  Thus  we  rounded  Cape  Rawson,  and  Cape 
Sheridan  was  in  view.  At  last!  That  sloping  head- 
land looked  more  beautiful  than  the  gates  of  para- 
dise to  our  vigil-wearied  eyes. 

We  rounded  the  cape  at  a  quarter  past  seven, 
fifteen  minutes  later  than  the  time  of  our  arrival  in 
1905.  Since  the  23d  of  August,  thirteen  days  before, 
neither  Bartlett  nor  I  had  had  our  clothes  off. 

Should  we  stop  here?  There  was  still  open  water 
beyond.     I  gave  orders  to  steam  ahead,  hoping  that 


CAPE   SHERIDAN  AT  LAST     121 

we  might  reach  Porter  Bay.  But  after  two  miles  we 
came  to  another  impassable  barrier  of  ice,  and  it  was 
decided  that  it  was  Cape  Sheridan  again  for  this  year's 
winter  quarters.  Back  we  went,  and  the  work  of 
getting  the  Roosevelt  inside  the  tide  crack  was  begun. 

My  heart  was  Ught.  Those  two  miles  beyond 
Cape  Sheridan  had  given  us  the  record  of  "farthest 
north"  which  any  vessel  had  ever  reached  under  her 
own  steam,  82°  30'.  One  vessel  only,  Nansen's  Fram, 
had  been  farther  north,  but  she  had  drifted  there  stern 
foremost,  a  plaything  of  the  ice.  Again  the  Kttle 
black,  strenuous  Roosevelt  had  proven  herself  the 
champion. 

There  are  some  feelings  which  a  man  cannot  express 
in  words.  Such  were  mine  as  the  mooring  lines  went 
out  onto  the  ice  foot  at  Cape  Sheridan.  We  had 
kept  the  scheduled  time  of  our  program  and  had 
negotiated  the  first  part  of  the  difficult  proposition- 
that  of  driving  a  ship  from  New  York  to  a  point  within 
striking  distance  of  the  Pole.  All  the  uncertainties 
of  ice  navigation  —  the  possible  loss  of  the  Roosevelt 
and  a  large  quantity  of  our  supplies  —  were  at  an 
end.  Another  source  of  gratification  was  the  realiza- 
tion that  this  last  voyage  had  further  accentuated 
the  value  of  detailed  experience  in  this  arduous  work. 
Notwithstanding  the  delays  which  had  sometimes 
seemed  endless,  we  had  made  the  voyage  with  only  a 
small  percentage  of  the  anxieties  and  injury  to  the 
ship  which  we  had  experienced  on  the  former  upward 
journey  in  1905. 

Lying  there,  with  the  northern  bounds  of  all  known 
lands  —  except  those  close  to  us  —  lying  far  to  the 


122  THENORTHPOLE 

south,  we  were  in  a  position  properly  to  attack  the 
second  part  of  our  problem,  the  projection  of  a  sledge 
party  from  the  ship  to  the  Pole  itself.  This  rounding 
of  Cape  Sheridan  was  not  the  ultimate  achievement 
probable. 

So  great  was  our  relief  at  having  driven  the  Roose- 
velt through  the  ice  of  Robeson  Channel,  that  as  soon 
as  the  mooring  lines  were  out  at  Cape  Sheridan  we  set 
to  work  unloading  the  ship  with  light-hearted  eager- 
ness. The  Roosevelt  was  grounded  inside  the  tide 
crack,  and  the  first  things  we  got  ashore  were  the  two 
hundred  and  forty-six  dogs,  which  had  made  the  ship 
a  noisy  and  ill-smelling  inferno  for  the  last  eighteen 
days.  They  were  simply  dropped  over  the  rail  onto 
the  ice,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  shore  in  all  directions 
was  dotted  with  them,  as  they  ran,  leaped  and  barked 
in  the  snow.  The  decks  were  washed  down  with 
hose,  and  the  work  of  unloading  began.  First  the 
sledges  came  down  from  the  bridge  deck,  where  they 
had  been  built  during  the  upward  voyage,  a  fine  fleet 
of  twenty-three. 

We  wanted  to  get  the  ship  well  inside  the  ice 
barrier  where  she  would  be  really  safe,  so  we  lightened 
her  that  she  might  float  with  the  high  tide.  We 
made  chutes  from  planks,  and  down  these  we  slid  the 
oil  cases  from  the  main  deck  and  the  hold.  It  was 
necessary  to  work  carefully,  as  the  ice  was  thin  at 
that  season.  Later  two  or  three  sledge  loads  of  sup- 
plies broke  through,  and  the  Eskimos  with  them;  but 
as  the  water  was  only  five  or  six  feet  deep,  and  the 
supplies  were  packed  in  tins,  no  serious  damage  was 
done. 


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THE   HOOSI5VELT   ON   SEPTEMBER    12,    1908 
Marie  Ahnighito  Peary's  Birthday 


'PEAKY       SLEDGES   ON    liOARD   THE    ROOSEVELT 


CAPE   SHERIDAN   AT   LAST     123 

While  the  oil  was  being  unloaded,  a  party  of  men 
went  out  with  ice  chisels,  poles,  saws,  and  so  forth, 
chopping  away  the  ice  so  that  we  could  warp  the 
Roosevelt  in,  broadside  to  the  shore.  Bartlett  and 
I  were  determined  to  get  the  ship  beyond  the  floe- 
berg  barrier  and  into  the  shallow  water  of  the  ice- 
foot. We  were  not  looking  forward  to  another  winter 
of  such  torment  as  we  had  lived  through  on  the  last 
previous  expedition,  with  the  ship  just  on  the  edge  of 
the  ice-foot  and  subject  to  every  movement  of  the 
hostile  pack  outside. 

After  the  oil  cases  came  the  tons  of  whale  meat 
from  the  quarter-deck,  some  of  it  in  chunks  as  large 
as  a  Saratoga  trunk.  It  was  thrown  over  the  side 
onto  the  ice,  sledged  ashore  by  the  Eskimos,  some  hun- 
dred yards  over  the  ice-foot,  and  heaped  in  great 
piles,  protected  by  the  bags  of  coal  which  had  also 
been  taken  from  the  quarter-deck.  Then  came  the 
whale-boats,  which  were  lowered  from  the  davits  and 
run  ashore  like  sledges.  They  were  later  turned 
bottom  side  up  for  the  winter  and  weighted  down, 
so  that  the  wind  could  not  move  them. 

The  work  of  landing  the  supplies  and  equipnient 
consumed  several  days.  This  is  the  very  first  work 
of  every  well-managed  arctic  expedition  on  reaching 
winter  quarters.  With  the  supplies  ashore,  the  loss 
of  the  ship  by  fire  or  by  crushing  in  the  ice,  would  mean 
simply  that  the  party  might  have  to  walk  home.  It 
would  not  interfere  with  the  sledge  work,  nor  seri- 
ously cripple  the  expedition.  Had  we  lost  the  Roose- 
velt at  Cape  Sheridan,  we  should  have  spent  the  winter 
in  the  box  houses  which  we  constructed  and  in  the 


124  THENORTHPOLE 

spring  should  have  made  the  dash  for  the  Pole  just  the 
same.  We  should  then  have  walked  the  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  to  Cape  Sabine,  crossed  the  Smith 
Sound  ice  to  Etah,  and  waited  for  a  ship. 

The  adjacent  shore  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  was 
lined  with  boxes,  each  item  of  provisions  having  a 
pile  to  itself.  This  packing-box  village  was  chris- 
tened Hubbardville,  in  honor  of  General  Thomas  H. 
Hubbard,  president  of  the  Peary  Arctic  Club.  When 
the  boxes  which  had  served  as  a  bed  platform  in  the 
Eskimo  quarters  of  the  Roosevelt's  forward  deck  were 
removed,  the  place  was  swept  and  scrubbed;  then  a 
bed  platform  was  built  of  boards,  divided  into  sec- 
tions for  the  various  families  and  screened  in  front 
by  curtains.  Under  the  bed  platform  was  an  open 
space,  where  the  Eskimos  could  keep  their  cooking 
utensils  and  other  personal  belongings.  The  fas- 
tidious reader  who  is  shocked  at  the  idea  of  keeping 
frying-pans  under  the  bed  should  see  an  Eskimo 
family  in  one  of  their  native  houses  of  stone  and  earth, 
eight  feet  across,  where  meat  and  drink,  men,  women, 
and  children  are  crowded  indiscriminately  for  month 
upon  month  in  winter. 

We  next  landed  about  eighty  tons  of  coal,  so  that, 
in  case  we  should  have  to  live  in  the  box  houses,  there 
would  be  plenty  of  fuel.  At  that  time  of  the  year  it 
was  not  very  cold.  On  the  8th  of  September  the  ther- 
mometer stood  at  12  above  zero,  the  next  day  at  4. 

The  heavier  cases,  containing  the  tins  of  bacon, 
pemmican  (the  condensed  meat  food  used  in  the 
Arctic),  flour,  et  cetera,  were  utilized  ashore  like  so 
many  blocks  of  granite  in  constructing  three  houses, 


CAPE   SHERIDAN   AT   LAST     125 

about  fifteen  feet  by  thirty.  All  the  supplies  were 
especially  packed  for  this  purpose,  in  boxes  of  speci- 
fied dimensions  —  one  of  the  innumerable  details 
which  made  for  the  success  of  the  expedition.  In 
building  the  houses  the  tops  of  the  boxes  were  placed 
inside,  the  covers  removed,  and  the  contents  taken 
out  as  needed,  as  from  a  shelf,  the  whole  house  being 
one  large  grocery. 

The  roofs  were  made  of  sails  thrown  over  boat 
booms  or  spars,  and  later  the  walls  and  roof  were 
banked  in  solidly  with  snow.  Stoves  were  set  up,  so 
that,  if  everything  went  well,  the  houses  could  be 
used  as  workshops  during  the  winter. 

So  here  we  were,  safely  bestowed  at  Cape  Sheridan, 
and  the  prize  seemed  already  in  our  grasp.  The  con- 
tingencies which  had  blocked  our  way  in  1906  were 
all  provided  for  on  this  last  expedition.  We  knew 
just  what  we  had  to  do,  and  just  how  to  do  it.  Only 
a  few  months  of  waiting,  the  fall  hunting,  and  the 
long,  dark  winter  were  all  that  lay  between  me  and 
the  final  start.  I  had  the  dogs,  the  men,  the  experi- 
ence, a  fixed  determination  (the  same  impulse  which 
drove  the  ships  of  Columbus  across  the  trackless 
western  sea)  —  and  the  end  lay  with  that  Destiny 
which  favors  the  man  who  follows  his  faith  and  his 
dream  to  the  last  breath. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


IN   WINTER   QUARTERS 


WHEN  the  removal  of  supplies  had  lightened 
the  Roosevelt  so  much  that  Bartlett  got 
her  considerably  farther  in  shore,  she  lay 
with  her  nose  pointing  almost  true  north.  It  cheered 
us,  for  this  was  her  constant  habit.  It  seemed  almost 
like  the  purpose  of  a  living  creature.  Whenever  on  the 
upward  voyage  —  either  this  time  or  on  her  first  trip 
in  1905  —  the  ship  was  beset  in  the  ice  so  that  we 
lost  control  of  her,  she  always  swung  around  of  her 
own  accord  and  pointed  north.  When  twisting  through 
the  ice,  if  we  got  caught  when  the  ship  was  headed 
east  or  west,  it  was  only  a  little  while  before  the  pres- 
sure would  swing  her  round  till  once  more  she  looked 
northward.  Even  on  the  return  journey,  in  1906, 
it  was  the  same  —  as  if  the  ship  realized  she  had  not 
accomplished  her  purpose  and  wanted  to  go  back. 
The  sailors  noticed  it,  and  used  to  talk  about  it. 
They  said  the  Roosevelt  was  not  satisfied,  that  she 
knew  she  had  not  done  her  work. 

When  we  got  the  vessel  as  near  the  shore  as  pos- 
sible, the  ship's  people  began  to  make  her  ready  for  the" 
winter.  The  engine-room  force  was  busy  blowing  down 
the  boilers,  putting  the  machinery  out  of  commission, 
removing  every  drop  of  water  from  the  pipes  and 
elbows  so  the  cold  of  winter  should  not  burst  them; 

126 


IN   WINTER  QUARTERS         127 

and  the  crew  was  busy  taking  down  the  sails,  slacking 
off  the  rigging,  so  the  contraction  from  the  intense 
cold  of  winter  should  not  cause  damage,  with  a 
thousand  and  one  details  of  like  character. 

Before  the  sails  were  taken  down,  they  were  all 
set,  that  they  might  be  thoroughly  dried  out  by  sun 
and  wind.  The  ship  was  a  beautiful  sight,  held  fast 
in  the  embrace  of  the  ice  and  with  her  cables  out, 
but  with  every  sail  filled  with  wind  like  a  yacht  in  a 
race. 

While  this  work  was  going  on  small  hunting  parties 
of  Eskimos  were  sent  to  the  Lake  Hazen  region,  but 
they  met  with  little  success.  A  few  hares  were  secured, 
but  musk-oxen  seemed  to  have  vanished.  This  troubled 
me,  for  it  raised  a  fear  that  the  hunting  of  the  former 
expedition  had  killed  off  the  game,  or  driven  it  away. 
The  Eskimo  women  set  their  fox  traps  all  along  the 
shore  for  five  miles  or  so  each  way,  and  they  were  more 
successful  than  the  men,  obtaining  some  thirty  or 
forty  foxes  in  the  course  of  the  fall  and  winter.  The 
women  also  went  on  fishing  trips  to  the  ponds  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  brought  in  many  mottled  beauties. 

The  Eskimo  method  of  fishing  is  interesting.  The 
fish  in  that  region  will  not  rise  to  bait  but  are  captured 
by  cutting  a  hole  in  the  ice  and  dropping  in  a  piece 
of  ivory  carved  in  the  shape  of  a  small  fish.  When 
the  fish  rises  to  examine  this  visitor,  it  is  secured  with 
a  spear.  The  Eskimo  fish  spear  has  a  central  shaft 
with  a  sharp  piece  of  steel,  usually  an  old  nail,  set  in 
the  end.  On  each  side  is  a  piece  of  deer  antler  pointing 
downward,  lashed  onto  the  shaft  with  a  fine  line,  and 
sharp  nails,  pointing  inward,  are  set  in  the  two  frag- 


128  THENORTHPOLE 

ments  of  antler.  When  this  spear  is  thrust  down  on 
the  fish,  the  antlers  spread  as  they  strike  the  fish's 
back;  he  is  impaled  by  the  sharp  point  above  him,  and 
the  sharp  barbs  on  either  side  keep  him  from  getting 
away. 

The  char  (?)  of  North  Grant  Land  is  a  beautiful 
mottled  fish,  weighing  sometimes  as  much  as  eleven 
or  twelve  pounds.  I  believe  that  the  pink  fiber  of 
these  fish  —  taken  from  water  never  warmer  than 
35°  or  40°  above  zero  —  is  the  firmest  and  sweetest 
fish  fiber  in  the  world.  During  my  early  expeditions 
in  this  region,  I  would  spear  one  of  these  beauties  and 
throw  him  on  the  ice  to  freeze,  then  pick  him  up  and 
fling  him  down  so  as  to  shatter  the  flesh  under  the 
skin,  lay  him  on  the  sledge,  and  as  I  walked  away  pick 
out  morsels  of  the  pink  flesh  and  eat  them  as  one  would 
eat  strawberries. 

In  September  of  1900  with  these  fish  a  party  of 
six  men  and  twenty-three  dogs  were  supported  for 
some  ten  days,  until  we  found  musk-oxen.  We  speared 
the  fish  in  the  way  the  Eskimos  taught  us,  using  the 
regular  native  spear. 

The  new  members  of  the  expedition  were  naturally 
anxious  to  go  sight-seeing.  MacMillan  had  an  attack 
of  the  grip,  but  Borup  and  Dr.  Goodsell  scoured  the 
surrounding  country.  Hubbardville  could  not  boast 
its  Westminster  Abbey  nor  its  Arc  de  Triomphe,  but 
there  were  Petersen's  grave  and  the  Alert  and  Roosevelt 
cairns,  both  in  the  neighborhood,  and  visible  from  the 
ship. 

About  a  mile  and  a  half  southwest  from  our  winter 
quarters  was  the  memorial  headboard  of  Petersen,  the 


IN   WINTER   QUARTERS         129 

Danish  interpreter  of  the  English  expedition  of  1875-76, 
He  died,  as  the  result  of  exposure  on  a  sledge  trip,  and 
was  buried  there  abreast  of  the  Alert's  winter  quarters. 
The  grave  is  covered  with  a  l^rge  flat  slab,  and  at 
the  head  is  a  board  covered  with  a  copper  sheet  from 
the  boiler  room  of  the  Alert,  with  the  inscription 
punched  in  it.  There  may  be  a  lonelier  grave  somewhere 
on  earth,  but  if  so  I  have  no  knowledge  of  it.  No 
explorer,  not  even  the  youngest  and  most  thoughtless, 
could  stand  before  that  "mute  reminder  of  heroic 
bones"  without  a  feeling  of  reverence  and  awe.  There 
is  something  menacing  in  that  dark  silhouette  against 
the  white  snow,  as  if  the  mysterious  Arctic  were  re- 
minding the  intruder  that  he  might  be  chosen  next 
to  remain  with  her  forever. 

Not  far  away  is  the  Alert's  cairn,  from  which  I 
took  the  British  record  in  1905,  a  copy  of  it  being  re- 
placed by  Ross  Marvin,  according  to  the  custom  of 
explorers.  In  view  of  his  tragic  end,  in  the  spring  of 
1909,  the  farthest  north  of  all  deaths  known  to  man, 
this  visit  of  Marvin's  to  the  neighborhood  of  Petersen's 
grave  has  a  peculiar  pathos. 

The  Roosevelt  cairn,  erected  by  Marvin  in  1906,  is 
directly  abreast  of  the  ship's  location  at  Cape  Sheridan 
in  1905-06  and  about  one  mile  inland.  It  is  on  a 
high  point  of  land,  about  four  hundred  feet  above 
the  water.  The  record  is  in  a  prune  can,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  pile  of  stones,  and  was  written  by 
Marvin  himself  in  lead-pencil.  The  cairn  is  sur- 
mounted by  a  cross,  made  of  the  oak  plank  from  our 
sledge  runners.  It  faces  north,  and  at  the  intersection 
of   the   upright   and  the   crosspiece  there   is  a  large 


130  THENORTHPOLE 

"R"  cut  in  the  wood.  Wlien  I  went  up  to  see  it,  soon 
after  our  arrival  this  last  time,  the  cross  was  leaning 
toward  the  north,  as  if  from  the  intentness  of  its  three 
years'  northward  gazing. 

On  the  12th  of  September  we  had  a  holiday,  it 
being  the  fifteenth  birthday  of  my  daughter,  Marie 
Ahnighito,  who  was  born  at  Anniversary  Lodge, 
Greenland  —  the  most  northerly  born  of  all  white 
children.  Ten  years  before,  we  had  celebrated  her 
fifth  birthday  on  the  Windward.  Many  icebergs  had 
drifted  down  the  channels  since  then,  and  I  was  still 
following  the  same  ideal  which  had  given  my  daughter 
so  cold  and  strange  a  birthplace. 

There  was  a  driving  snowstorm  that  day,  but  Bart- 
lett  dressed  the  ship  in  all  the  flags,  the  full  inter- 
national code,  and  the  bright  colors  of  the  bunting 
made  a  striking  contrast  to  the  gray -white  sky.  Percy, 
the  steward,  had  baked  a  special  birthday  cake,  and 
we  had  it,  surmounted  with  fifteen  blazing  candles, 
on  our  supper  table.  Just  after  breakfast  the  Eskimos 
came  in  with  a  polar  bear,  a  female  yearling  six  feet 
long,  and  I  determined  to  have  it  mounted  for  Marie's 
birthday  bear.  It  should  be  standing  and  advancing, 
one  paw  extended  as  if  to  shake,  the  head  on  one  side 
and  a  bearish  smile  on  the  face.  The  bear  provided 
us  with  juicy  steaks,  and  we  had  a  special  tablecloth, 
our  best  cups  and  saucers,  new  spoons,  et  cetera. 

A  day  or  two  later  we  began  to  get  the  dogs  made 
fast,  in  preparation  for  the  first  sledge  parties.  There 
was  now  sufficient  snow  to  begin  the  transportation  of 
supplies  toward  Cape  Columbia,  and  Black  Cliffs 
Bay  was  frozen  over.    The  Eskimos  tied  the  dogs,  in 


IN   WINTER  QUARTERS         131 

teams  of  five  or  six,  to  stakes  driven  into  the  shore  or 
holes  cut  in  the  ice.  They  made  a  fine  picture,  looking 
shoreward  from  the  ship  —  nearly  two  hundred  and 
fifty  of  them  —  and  their  barking  could  be  heard  at 
all  hours. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  day  and  night  were 
still  determined  only  by  the  clock,  as  the  ever-circling 
sun  had  not  yet  set.  By  reason  of  the  industry  of  all 
hands  on  the  upward  voyage,  everything  was  now 
ready  for  the  fall  work.  The  Eskimos  had  built  the 
sledges  and  made  the  dog  harnesses,  and  Matt  Henson 
had  finished  the  "kitchen  boxes,"  which  enclosed  our 
oil  stoves  in  the  field,  while  the  busy  needles  of  the 
Eskimo  women  had  provided  every  man  with  a  fur 
outfit. 

In  the  North  we  wear  the  regular  Eskimo  garments, 
with  certain  modifications.  First  of  all,  there  is  the 
kooletah,  a  fur  jacket  with  no  buttons,  which  goes  on 
over  the  head.  For  summer  wear  the  Eskimos  make 
it  of  sealskin,  but  for  winter  it  is  made  of  fox  or 
deerskin. 

For  our  own  use,  we  had  jackets  made  of  Michigan 
sheepskin.  We  took  the  skins  up  with  us,  and  the 
women  made  the  garments,  but  when  it  was  very  cold 
we  wore  the  deerskin  or  foxskin  jacket  of  the  Eskimos. 
Attached  to  this  jacket  is  a  hood,  and  around  the  face 
is  a  thick  roll  made  of  fox-tails. 

The  ahteah  is  a  shirt,  usually  of  fawn  skin,  with 
the  hair  inside,  and  the  Eskimos  wear  it  even  in  summer. 
In  some  of  the  photographs  of  natives,  the  skilful  piecing 
together  of  the  skins  in  the  shirt  can  be  traced.  The 
Eskimo  women  are  more  adept  at  this  work  than  are 


132  THENORTHPOLE 

any  of  the  furriers  of  civilization.  They  sew  the  skins 
with  the  sinew  taken  from  the  back  of  the  deer  —  the 
jumping  muscle.  It  is  absolutely  unbreakable,  and 
moisture  does  not  rot  it.  For  the  coarser  work  of  sewing 
boots,  canoes,  and  tents,  they  use  the  sinew  from  the 
tail  of  the  narwhal.  The  sewing  is  now  done  with  the 
steel  needles  I  have  given  them;  but  in  former  years 
they  used  a  punch  made  of  bone,  passing  the  sinew 
through  the  hole,  as  a  shoemaker  uses  a  "waxed  end." 
They  do  not  cut  the  skins  with  shears,  as  that  would 
injure  the  fur;  but  with  a  "woman's  knife,"  similar 
to  an  old-fashioned  mincemeat  chopper. 

The  shaggy  fur  trousers  are  invariably  made  from 
the  skins  of  the  polar  bear.  Then  there  are  stockings 
of  hareskin,  and  the  hamihs,  or  boots,  of  sealskin,  soled 
with  the  heavier  skin  of  the  square-flipper  seal.  On 
the  ship,  on  sledge  journeys,  and  in  all  the  field  work 
of  the  winter,  the  regular  footgear  of  the  Eskimos 
was  worn.  Add  the  warm  fur  mittens,  and  the  winter 
wardrobe  is  complete. 

It  may  reasonably  be  inquired  whether  the  close 
housing  for  so  long  a  time  of  such  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  human  beings  did  not  result  in  personal  friction, 
due  to  the  inevitable  accumulation  of  a  thousand  and 
one  petty  irritations.  To  some  extent  it  did.  But  the 
principal  members  of  the  expedition  were  men  of 
such  character  that  they  were  able  to  exercise  an 
admirable  self-restraint  that  prevented  any  unpleasant 
results  of  consequence.  Practically  the  only  trouble 
of  a  personal  sort  that  was  of  any  importance  occurred 
between  one  of  the  sailors  and  an  Eskimo  whom  we 
called  Harrigan. 


IN   WINTER   QUARTERS         133 

Harrigan  acquired  this  sobriquet  on  account  of 
his  ear  for  music.  The  crew  used  to  be  fond  of  singing 
that  energetic  Irish  air  which  was  popular  for  some 
years  along  Broadway  and  which  concludes  ungram- 
matically with  the  words  "Harrigan  —  that's  me."  The 
Eskimo  in  question  seemed  fascinated  by  this  song 
and  in  time  learned  those  three  words  and  practised 
them  with  so  much  assiduity  that  he  was  ultimately 
able  to  sing  them  in  a  manner  not  wholly  uncouth. 

In  addition  to  his  musical  leanings,  Harrigan  was 
a  practical  joker,  and  on  one  occasion  he  was  exer- 
cising his  humorous  talents  in  the  forecastle  to  the 
considerable  discomfort  of  one  of  the  crew.  Ultimately 
the  saillor,  unable  to  rid  himself  of  his  persecutor  in 
any  other  way,  resorted  to  the  use  of  his  fists.  The 
Eskimos'^  while  good  wrestlers,  are  far  from  adepts 
at  the  "manly  art  of  self-defense,"  and  the  result 
was  that  Harrigan  emerged  from  the  forecastle  with 
a  well-blackened  eye  and  a  keen  sense  of  having  been 
ill  used.  He  complained  bitterly  of.  his  treatment, 
but  I  gave  him  a  new  shirt  and  told  him  to  keep  away 
from  the  forecastle  where  the  sailors  were,  and  in  a  few 
hours  he  had  forgotten  it  like  a  school  boy,  so  that 
the  affair  passed  off  without  leaving  any  permanent 
ill  feeling,  and  soon  Harrigan  was  again  cheerfully 
croaking  his  "Harrigan  —  that's  me." 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE   AUTXJMN  WORK 


THE  main  purpose  of  the  autumn  sledge  parties 
was  the  transportation  to  Cape  Columbia 
of  supplies  for  the  spring  sledge  journey 
toward  the  Pole.  Cape  Columbia,  ninety  miles  north- 
west from  the  ship,  had  been  chosen  because  it  was 
the  most  northerly  point  of  Grant  Land,  and  because 
it  was  far  enough  west  to  be  out  of  the  ice  current 
setting  down  Robeson  Channel.  From  there  we 
could  strike  straight  north  over  the  ice  of  the  Polar 
Sea. 

The  moving  of  thousands  of  pounds  of  supplies 
for  men  and  dogs  for  a  distance  of  ninety  miles,  under 
the  rigorous  conditions  of  the  Arctic,  presented  prob- 
lems for  calculation.  The  plan  was  to  establish 
stations  along  the  route,  instead  of  sending  each  party 
through  to  Cape  Columbia  and  back.  The  first  party 
was  to  go  to  Cape  Belknap,  about  twelve  miles  from 
the  ship,  deposit  their  supplies,  and  return  the  same 
day.  The  second  party  was  to  go  to  Cape  Richard- 
son, about  twenty  miles  away,  deposit  their  supplies, 
return  part  way  and  pick  up  the  supplies  at  Cape 
Belknap,  taking  them  forward  to  Cape  Richardson. 
The  next  station  was  at  Porter  Bay,  the  next  at  Sail 
Harbor,  the  next  at  Cape  Colan,  and  the  final  station 
at  Cape  Columbia  itself.     Parties  would  thus  be  going 

134 


THE   AUTUMN   WORK  135 

back  and  forth  the  whole  time,  the  trail  would  con- 
stantly be  kept  open,  and  hunting  could  be  done  along 
the  way.  The  tractive  force  was,  of  course,  the  Eskimo 
dogs,  and  sledges  were  the  means  of  transportation. 
The  sledges  were  of  two  types:  the  Peary  sledge, 
which  had  never  been  used  before  this  expedition,  and 
the  regular  Eskimo  sledge,  increased  somewhat  in 
length  for  special  work.  The  Peary  type  of  sledge 
is  from  twelve  to  thirteen  feet  in  length,  two  feet  in 
width,  and  seven  inches  in  height;  the  Eskimo  type 
of  sledge  is  nine  feet  in  length,  two  feet  in  width,  and 
seven  inches  in  height.  Another  difference  is  that 
the  Eskimo  sledge  is  simply  two  oak  runners  an  inch 
or  an  inch  and  a  quarter  thick  and  seven  inches  wide, 
shaped  at  the  front  to  give  the  easiest  curve  for  pas- 
sage over  the  ice,  and  shod  with  steel,  while  the  Peary 
sledge  has  oak  sides  rounded,  both  in  front  and  behind, 
with  two-inch  wide  bent  ash  runners  attached,  the 
runners  being  shod  with  two-inch  wide  steel  shoes. 
The  sides  of  both  are  solid,  and  they  are  lashed 
together  with  sealskin  thongs. 

The  Peary  sledge  is  the  evolution  of  twenty-three 
years  of  experience  in  arctic  work  and  is  believed  to 
be  the  strongest  and  easiest  running  sledge  yet  used 
for  arctic  traveling.  On  a  level  surface  this  sledge 
will  support  ten  or  twelve  hundred  pounds. 

The  Eskimos  have  used  their  own  type  of  sledge 
from  time  immemorial.  When  they  had  no  wood, 
before  the  advent  of  the  white  man,  they  made  their 
sledges  of  bone  —  the  shoulder-blades  of  the  walrus, 
and  the  ribs  of  the  whale,  with  deer  antlers  for 
up-standers. 


136  THENORTHPOLE 

For  dog  harnesses,  I  have  adopted  the  Eskimo 
pattern,  but  have  used  different  material.  The 
Eskimo  harness  is  made  of  sealskin  —  two  loops  joined 
by  a  cross  strip  at  the  back  of  the  neck  and  under 
the  throat.  The  dog's  forelegs  pass  through  the  loops, 
and  the  ends  are  joined  over  the  small  of  the  back, 
where  the  trace  is  attached.  This  harness  is ,  very 
simple  and  flexible,  and  it  allows  the  dog  to  exert 
his  whole  strength.  The  objection  to  sealskin  as  a 
harness  material  is  a  gastronomic  one.  When  the 
dogs  are  on  short  rations  they  eat  their  harnesses  at 
night  in  camp.  To  obviate  this  difficulty,  I  use  for 
the  harnesses  a  special  webbing  or  belting,  about  two 
or  two  and  a  half  inches  in  width,  and  replace  the  cus- 
tomary rawhide  traces  of  the  Eskimos  by  a  braided 
linen  sash  cord. 

The  dogs  are  hitched  to  the  sledge  fanwise.  The 
standard  team  is  eight  dogs;  but  for  rapid  traveling 
with  a  heavy  load,  ten  or  twelve  are  sometimes  used. 
They  are  guided  by  the  whip  and  the  voice.  The  Es- 
kimo whip  has  a  lash  sometimes  twelve,  sometimes 
eighteen,  feet  long,  and  so  skilful  are  the  Eskimos 
in  its  manipulation  that  they  can  send  the  lash  flying 
through  the  air  and  reach  any  part  of  any  particular 
dog  they  wish.  A  white  man  can  learn  to  use  an 
Eskimo  whip,  but  it  takes  time.  It  takes  time  also 
to  acquire  the  exact  Eskimo  accent  to  the  words 
"How-eh,  how-eh,  how-eh,"  meaning  to  the  right; 
"Ash-oo,  ash-oo,  ash-oo"  to  the  left;  as  well  as  the  stand- 
ard, "Huk,  huh,  huk,"  which  is  equivalent  to  "go  on." 
Sometimes,  when  the  dogs  do  not  obey,  the  usual 
"How-eh,  how-eh,  how-eh,"  will  reverse  its  accent,  and 


o 


o 
< 

H 

'A 
•Ji 
O 
O 
« 

w 

B 

H 

2; 
w 

H 


PEARY       TYPE   OF   SLEDGE 

12}  ft.  Long,  2  ft.  Wide,  7  in.  High;  With  Steel  .Shoes  2  in.  Wide 


ESKIMO  TYPE  OF  SLEDGE  USED   ON  JOURNEY 

9  ft.  H  in.  LoiiE,  2  ft.  Wide,  8  in  High;  With  Steel  Slioes  !}■  in.  Wide 

Ear-h  has  standard  load  nf  supplies  for  team  and  driver  t(.r  htty  days- 

l»einiid(  an,  blseuit,  milk,  tea,  oil,  alcohol 


THE   AUTUMN   WORK  137 

the  driver  will  yell,  "  How-ooooooo,"  with  an  accom- 
paniment of  other  words  in  Eskimo  and  English  which 
shall  be  left  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader.  The 
temperature  of  a  new  man  trying  to  drive  a  team  of 
Eskimo  dogs  is  apt  to  be  pretty  high.  One  is  almost 
inclined  to  believe  with  the  Eskimos  that  demons 
take  possession  of  these  animals.  Sometimes  they 
seem  to  be  quite  crazy.  A  favorite  trick  of  theirs  is 
to  leap  over  and  under  and  around  each  other,  getting 
their  traces  in  a  snarl  beside  which  the  Gordian  knot 
would  be  as  nothing.  Then,  in  a  temperature  anywhere 
between  zero  and  60°  below,  the  driver  has  to  remove 
his  heavy  mittens  and  disentangle  the  traces  with  his 
bare  hands,  while  the  dogs  leap  and  snap  and  bark 
and  seem  to  mock  him.  And  this  brings  me  to  an 
incident  which  practically  always  happens  when  a 
new  man  starts  out  to  drive  Eskimo  dogs. 

A  member  of  the  expedition  —  I,  who  have  also 
suffered,  will  not  give  his  name  away  —  started  out 
with  his  dog  team.  Some  hours  later  shouts  and  hila- 
rious laughter  were  heard  from  the  Eskimos.  It  was 
not  necessary  to  inquire  what  had  happened.  The 
dog  team  had  returned  to  the  ship  —  without  the  sledge. 
The  new  dog  driver,  in  attempting  to  imsnarl  the 
traces  of  his  dogs,  had  let  them  get  away  from  him. 
Another  hour  or  two  went  by,  and  the  man  himself 
returned,  crestfallen  and  angry  clear  through.  He 
was  greeted  by  the  derisive  shouts  of  the  Eskimos, 
whose  respect  for  the  white  man  is  based  primarily 
on  the  white  man's  skill  in  the  Eskimo's  own  field. 
The  man  gathered  up  his  dogs  again  and  went  back 
for  the  sledge. 


138  THENORTHPOLE 

The  gradual  breaking  in  of  the  new  men  is  one  of 
the  purposes  of  the  short  trips  of  the  fall.  They  have 
to  become  inured  to  such  minor  discomforts  as  frosted 
toes  and  ears  and  noses,  as  well  as  the  loss  of  their  dogs. 
They  have  to  learn  to  keep  the  heavy  sledges  right 
side  up  when  the  going  is  rough  and  sometimes,  before 
a  man  gets  hardened,  this  seems  almost  to  rip  the 
muscles  from  the  shoulder  blades.  Moreover,  they 
have  to  learn  how  to  wear  their  fur  clothing. 

On  the  16th  of  September  the  first  train  of  supplies 
was  sent  to  Cape  Belknap:  Marvin,  Dr.  Goodsell, 
and  Borup,  with  thirteen  Eskimos,  sixteen  sledges, 
and  about  two  hundred  dogs.  They  were  an  imposing 
procession  as  they  started  northwest  along  the  ice- 
foot, the  sledges  going  one  behind  the  other.  It  was  a 
beautiful  day  —  clear,  calm,  and  simny,  —  and  we  could 
hear,  when  they  were  a  long  distance  away,  the  shouts 
of  the  Eskimo  drivers,  "Huk,  huh,  huh,"  "Ash-oo," 
"How-eh,"  the  cracking  of  the  whips,  and  the  crisp 
rustle  and  creaking  of  the  sledges  over  the  snow. 

It  is  often  asked  how  we  keep  warm  when  riding 
on  the  sledges.  We  do  not  ride,  save  in  rare  instances. 
We  walk,  and  when  the  going  is  hard  we  have  to  help 
the  dogs  by  lifting  the  sledges  over  rough  places. 

The  first  party  returned  the  same  day  with  the 
empty  sledges,  and  the  next  day  two  Eskimo  hunting 
parties  came  in  with  three  deer,  six  hares,  and  two  eider 
ducks.  Neither  party  had  seen  any  tracks  of  musk- 
oxen.  On  the  18th,  the  second  sledge  party  was  sent 
out  to  carry  fifty-six  cases  of  crew  pemmican  to  Cape 
Richardson,  where  they  were  to  camp,  bring  up  the 
biscuit  from  Cape  Belknap  to  Cape  Richardson  the 


THE   AUTUMN   WORK  139 

following  day,  and  then  return  to  the  ship.  That  gave 
them  one  night  in  the  field. 

A  man's  first  night  in  a  canvas  tent  in  the  Arctic 
is  likely  to  be  rather  wakeful.  The  ice  makes  mysteri- 
ous noises;  the  dogs  bark  and  fight  outside  the  tent 
where  they  are  tethered;  and  as  three  Eskimos  and 
one  white  man  usually  occupy  a  small  tent,  and  the 
oil-stove  is  left  burning  all  night,  the  air,  notwithstand- 
ing the  cold,  is  not  over-pm-e;  and  sometimes  the  Eski- 
mos begin  chanting  to  the  spirits  of  their  ancestors 
in  the  middle  of  the  night,  which  is,  to  say  the  least, 
trying.  Sometimes,  too,  the  new  man's  nerves  are 
tried  by  hearing  wolves  howl  in  the  distance. 

The  tents  are  specially  made.  They  are  of  light- 
weight canvas,  and  the  floor  of  the  tent  is  sewed 
directly  into  it.  The  fly  is  sewed  up,  a  circular  open- 
ing cut  in  it,  just  large  enough  to  admit  a  man,  and 
that  opening  fitted  with  a  circular  flap  which  is  closed 
by  a  draw-string,  making  the  tent  absolutely  snow- 
proof.  An  ordinary  tent,  when  the  snow  is  flying, 
would  be  filled  in  no  time. 

The  tent  is  pyramidal,  with  one  pole  in  the  center, 
and  the  edges  are  usually  held  down  by  the  sledge 
runners  or  by  snowshoes  used  as  tent  pegs.  The  men 
sleep  on  the  floor  in  their  clothes,  with  a  musk-ox 
skin  under,  and  a  light  deerskin  over  them.  I  have 
not  used  sleeping  bags  since  my  arctic  trip  of  1891-92. 

The  "kitchen  box"  for  our  sledge  journeys  is 
simply  a  wooden  box  containing  two  double-burner 
oil-stoves,  with  four-inch  wicks.  The  two  cooking 
pots  are  the  bottoms  of  five-gallon  coal-oil  tins,  fitted 
with  covers.     When  packed  they  are  turned  bottom 


140  THENOETHPOLE 

side  up  over  each  stove,  and  the  hinged  cover  of  the 
wooden  box  is  closed.  On  reaching  camp,  whether  tent 
or  snow  igloo,  the  kitchen  box  is  set  down  inside,  the 
top  of  the  box  is  turned  up  and  keeps  the  heat  of 
the  stove  from  melting  the  wall  of  the  igloo  or  burning 
the  tent;  the  hinged  front  of  the  box  is  turned  down 
and  forms  a  table.  The  two  cooking  pots  are  filled 
with  pounded  ice  and  put  on  the  stoves;  when  the  ice 
melts  one  pot  is  used  for  tea,  and  the  other  may  be 
used  to  warm  beans,  or  to  boil  meat  if  there  is  any. 

Each  man  has  a  quart  cup  for  tea,  and  a  hunting 
knife  which  serves  many  purposes.  He  does  not 
carry  anything  so  polite  as  a  fork,  and  one  teaspoon 
is  considered  quite  enough  for  a  party  of  four.  Each 
man  helps  himself  from  the  pot  —  sticks  in  his  knife 
and  fishes  out  a  piece  of  meat. 

The  theory  of  field  work  is  that  there  shall  be  two 
meals  a  day,  one  in  the  morning  and  one  at  night.  As 
the  days  grow  short,  the  meals  are  taken  before  light 
and  after  dark,  leaving  the  period  of  light  entirely 
for  work.  Sometimes  it  is  necessary  to  travel  for 
twenty-four  hours  without  stopping  for  food. 

The  Cape  Richardson  party  returned  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  19th,  and  was  sent  out  again  on  the  21st, 
nineteen  Eskimos  and  twenty-two  sledges,  to  take  6,600 
pounds  of  dog  pemmican  to  Porter  Bay,  MacMillan, 
being  still  under  the  weather  with  the  grip,  missed  this 
preliminary  training;  but  I  felt  certain  that  he  would 
overtake  the  experience  of  the  others  as  soon  as  he 
was  able  to  travel.  When  the  third  party  returned, 
on  the  24th,  they  brought  back  the  meat  and  skins 
of  fourteen  deer. 


.2  c 


O   Qi 

c  a 

a.ta 

ft  -«   . 


-1 


H  °T3 


^    OS'S 

-<  -.5 


THE   AUTUMN   WORK  141 

On  the  28th  there  was  a  general  exodus  from  the 
ship:  Henson,  Ootah,  AUetah,  and  Inighito  were  to 
hunt  on  the  north  side  of  Lake  Hazen;  Marvin,  Pood- 
loonah,  Seegloo,  and  Areo  on  the  east  end  and  the 
south  side  of  Lake  Hazen;  and  Bartlett,  with  Pan- 
ikpah,  Inighito,  Ookeyah,  Dr.  Goodsell,  with  Inighito, 
Keshungwah,  Kyootah,  and  Borup,  with  Karko,  Taw- 
chingwah,  and  Ahwatingwah,  were  to  go  straight 
through  to  Cape  Columbia. 

I  had  planned  from  the  beginning  to  leave  most 
of  the  hunting  and  other  field  work  to  the  yoimger 
members  of  the  expedition.  Twenty  odd  years  of 
arctic  experience  had  dulled  for  me  the  excitement 
of  everything  but  a  polar-bear  chase;  the  young  men 
were  eager  for  the  work;  there  was  much  to  do  on 
board  ship  in  planning  for  the  spring,  and  I  wished 
to  conserve  my  energies  for  the  supreme  effort. 

There  was  no  systematic  training,  because  I  do 
not  believe  in  it.  My  body  has  always  been  able  thus 
far  to  follow  my  will  no  matter  what  the  demands  might 
be,  and  my  winter's  work  was  largely  a  matter  of  refine- 
ment of  equipment,  and  of  mathematical  calculations 
of  pounds  of  supplies  and  miles  of  distance.  It  was 
the  lack  of  food  which  had  forced  us  to  turn  back  at 
87°  6'.  Hunger,  not  cold,  is  the  dragon  which  guards 
the  Rhinegold  of  the  Arctic. 

I  did  allow  myself  one  break  in  the  monotony 
of  ship  life  —  a  trip  to  Clements  Markham  Inlet,  in 
October.  Ever  since  April,  1902,  when  I  had  looked 
around  the  angle  of  Cape  Hecla  into  the  unexplored 
depths  of  this  great  fiord,  I  had  had  a  longing  to  pene- 
trate it.     On  the  previous  expedition  I  had  started 


142  THENORTHPOLE 

twice  with  that  purpose,  but  had  been  prevented  from 
carrying  it  out,  partly  on  account  of  bad  weather, 
partly  by  reason  of  my  anxiety  for  the  Roosevelt, 
which  I  had  left  in  a  precarious  position.  But  now 
the  Roosevelt  was  safe;  and  though  the  sun  was  circhng 
near  the  horizon  and  the  winter  night  would  soon 
be  upon  us,  I  decided  to  make  the  trip. 

On  the  1st  of  October  I  left  the  ship  with  three 
Eskimos,  Egingwah,  Ooblooyah,  and  Koolatoonah, 
three  sledges  with  teams  of  ten  dogs  each,  and  sup- 
plies for  two  weeks  only.  With  the  sledges  thus  lightly 
loaded,  and  the  trail  broken  for  us  by  the  parties  which 
had  preceded  us,  we  made  rapid  progress,  reaching 
Porter  Bay,  thirty-five  miles  from  the  ship,  for  our 
first  camp  in  a  few  hours. 

Here  we  found  two  Eskimos,  Onwagipsoo  and 
Wesharkoopsee,  who  had  been  sent  out  a  day  or  two 
before.  Onwagipsoo  went  back  to  the  ship,  but 
Wesharkoopsee  we  took  along  with  us  to  carry  a  load 
of  supplies  to  Sail  Harbor,  which  we  expected  to  reach 
on  the  next  march;  from  there  he  also  would  return  to 
the  ship. 

Our  camp  at  Porter  Bay  was  in  the  permanent 
tent  which  had  been  erected  there  by  the  first  of  the 
autumn  parties,  the  canvas  tent  with  the  sewed-in 
floor  which  has  already  been  described.  It  was  not 
very  cold  that  night,  and  we  slept  comfortably  after 
a  hearty  supper  of  beans  and  tea.  Beans  and  tea! 
Perhaps  it  does  not  sound  like  a  Lucullan  feast,  but 
after  a  day  in  the  field  in  Grant  Land  it  tastes  like 
one. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   BIGGEST   GAME   IN   THE  ARCTIC 

WE  slept  splendidly  on  that  banquet,  and, 
breaking  out  early  the  next  morning,  we 
passed  up  the  ice  of  Porter  Bay  to  its 
head,  then,  taking  to  the  land,  crossed  the  five-mile- 
wide  isthmus  which  separates  Porter  Bay  from  the 
head  of  James  Ross  Bay.  Every  foot  of  this  route  was 
familiar  to  me  and  rich  with  memories.  Reaching 
the  other  side,  we  descended  to  the  ice  again  and 
made  rapid  progress  along  the  western  shore.  The 
dogs  were  lively  and  well-fed,  trotting  along  with  tails 
and  ears  erect;  the  weather  was  good,  and  the  sun, 
now  low  on  the  horizon,  cast  long,  fantastic  shadows 
on  the  ice  from  every  man  and  dog. 

Suddenly  the  quick  eyes  of  Egingwah  spied  a 
moving  speck  on  the  slope  of  the  mountain  to  our 
left.  "Tooktoo,"  he  cried,  and  the  party  came  to  an 
instant  standstill.  Knowing  that  the  successful  pur- 
suit of  a  single  buck  reindeer  might  mean  a  long  run, 
I  made  no  attempt  to  go  after  him  myself;  but  I  told 
Egingwah  and  Ooblooyah,  my  two  stalwart,  long- 
legged  youngsters,  to  take  the  40-82  Winchesters  and  be 
oflf.  At  the  word  they  were  flying  across  country,  eager 
as  dogs  loosed  'from  the  traces,  crouching  low  and  run- 
ning quickly.  They  took  a  course  which  would  intercept 
the  deer  a  little  farther  along  the  slope  of  the  mountain. 

143 


144  THENOETHPOLE 

I  watched  them  through  my  glasses.  The  deer, 
when  he  caught  sight  of  them,  started  off  leisurely 
in  another  direction,  looking  back  every  now  and 
then,  suspiciously  alert.  When  the  deer  halted  suddenly 
and  swung  round  facing  them,  it  was  clear  that  they 
had  given  the  magic  call  taught  by  Eskimo  father  to 
Eskimo  son  through  generation  after  generation,  the 
imitation  call  at  which  every  buck  reindeer  stops 
instantly  —  a  pecvdiar  hissing  call  like  the  spitting  of 
a  cat,  only  more  lingering. 

The  two  men  leveled  their  rifles,  and  the  magnifi- 
cent buck  went  down  in  his  tracks.  The  dogs  had 
been  watching,  with  heads  and  ears  erect;  but  at  the 
report  of  the  rifles  they  swung  sharply  to  the  shore, 
and  the  next  instant  we  were  hurrying  across  the 
rocks  and  over  the  snow,  the  dogs  dragging  the  sledges 
as  if  they  had  been  empty. 

When  we  reached  the  two  hunters  they  were 
standing  patiently  beside  the  deer.  I  had  told  them 
not  to  disturb  him,  as  some  good  photographs  were 
desired.  He  was  a  beautiful  creature,  almost  snow- 
white,  with  magnificent  branching  antlers.  When 
the  photographs  were  taken,  all  four  of  the  men  set 
to  work,  skinning  and  cutting  him  up. 

The  scene  is  vivid  in  memory:  the  towering  moun- 
tains on  both  sides  of  James  Ross  Bay,  with  the  snow- 
covered  foreshore  stretching  down  to  the  white  surface 
of  the  bay;  in  the  south  the  low-lying  sun,  a  great 
glare  of  vivid  yellow  just  showing  through  the  gap  of 
the  divide,  the  air  full  of  slowly  dropping  frost  crystals; 
and  the  four  fur-clad  figures  grouped  around  the  deer, 
with  the   dogs    and  the   sledges  at  a  little  distance 


POLAR  BEAR,   ARRANGED   BY      FROZEN  TAXIOER.MY      AND   PHOTO- 
GRAPHED   BY   FLASHLIGHT 


BIGGEST   GAME   IN  ARCTIC     145 

—  the  only  signs  of  life  in  that  great  white  wilder- 
ness. 

When  the  deer  was  skinned  and  dressed,  the  pelt 
was  carefully  rolled  and  put  on  one  of  the  sledges,  the 
meat  was  made  into  a  pile  for  Wesharkoopsee  to  take 
back  to  the  ship  when  he  returned  from  Sail  Harbor 
with  empty  sledge,  and  we  pushed  along  the  west- 
ern shore  of  the  bay;  then,  taking  to  the  land  again, 
still  westward  across  this  second  peninsula  and  low 
divide,  till  we  came  to  the  little  bight,  called  Sail 
Harbor  by  the  English,  on  the  western  side  of  Parry 
Peninsula. 

Here,  out  at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  under  the 
lee  of  the  protecting  northern  point,  we  made  our 
second  camp. 

Wesharkoopsee  deposited  his  load  of  supplies,  and 
I  wrote  a  note  for  Bartlett,  who  was  west  of  us 
on  his  way  to  Cape  Columbia,  That  night  we  had 
deer  steak  for  supper  —  a  feast  for  a  king. 

After  a  few  hours'  sleep  we  started,  straight  as 
the  crow  flies,  across  the  eastern  end  of  the  great 
glacial  fringe,  heading  for  the  mouth  of  Clements 
Markham  Inlet.  Reaching  the  mouth  of  the  inlet, 
we  kept  on  down  its  eastern  shore,  finding  very  good 
going;  for  the  tides  rising  in  the  crack  next  the  shore 
had  saturated  the  overlying  snow,  then  freezing 
had  formed  a  narrow  but  smooth  surface  for  the 
sledges. 

A  part  of  this  shore  was  musk-ox  country,  and  we 
scanned  it  carefully,  but  saw  none  of  the  animals. 
Some  miles  down  the  bay  we  came  upon  the  tracks 
of  a  couple  of  deer.    A  little  farther  on  we  were  elec- 


146  THENORTHPOLE 

trifled  by  a  tense  whisper  from  the  ever  sharp-sighted 
Egingwah: 

"Nanooiksoah!" 

He  was  pointing  excitedly  toward  the  center  of 
the  fiord,  and  following  the  direction  of  his  finger  we 
saw  a  cream-colored  spot  leisurely  moving  toward 
the  mouth  of  the  fiord  —  a  polar  bear! 

If  there  is  anything  that  starts  the  blood  lust  in 
an  Eskimo's  heart  more  wildly  than  the  sight  of  a 
polar  bear,  I  have  yet  to  discover  it.  Hardened  as  I 
am  to  arctic  hunting,  I  was  thrilled  myself. 

While  I  stood  in  front  of  the  dogs  with  a  whip  in 
each  hand,  to  keep  them  from  dashing  away  —  for 
the  Eskimo  dog  knows  the  meaning  of  "nanooksoah" 
as  well  as  his  master  —  the  three  men  were  throwing 
things  off  the  sledges  as  if  they  were  crazy. 

When  the  sledges  were  empty,  Ooblooyah's  team 
shot  by  me,  with  Ooblooyah  at  the  up-standers.  Eging- 
wah came  next,  and  I  threw  myself  on  his  sledge  as  it 
flew  past.  Behind  us  came  Koolatoonah  with  the 
third  team.  The  man  who  coined  the  phrase  "greased 
lightning"  must  have  ridden  on  an  empty  sledge  be- 
hind a  team  of  Eskimo  dogs  on  the  scent  of  a  polar 
bear. 

The  bear  had  heard  us,  and  was  making  for  the 
opposite  shore  of  the  flord  with  prodigious  bounds. 
I  jumped  to  the  up-standers  of  the  flying  sledge, 
leaving  Egingwah  to  throw  himself  on  it  and  get  his 
breath,  and  away  we  went,  wild  with  excitement, 
across  the  snow-covered  surface  of  the  fiord. 

When  we  got  to  the  middle  the  snow  was  deeper, 
and  the  dogs  could  not  go  so  fast,  though  they  strained 


BIGGEST   GAME   IN  ARCTIC     147 

ahead  with  all  their  might.  Suddenly  they  scented 
the  trail  —  and  then  neither  deep  snow  nor  anything 
else  could  have  held  them.  Ooblooyah,  with  a  crazy 
team  and  only  himself  at  the  up-standers,  distanced 
the  rest  of  us,  arriving  at  the  farther  shore  almost  as 
soon  as  the  leaping  bear.  He  loosed  his  dogs  imme- 
diately, and  we  could  see  the  bear  in  the  distance, 
followed  by  minute  dots  that  looked  hardly  larger 
than  mosquitoes  swarming  up  the  steep  slope.  Before 
our  slower  teams  got  to  the  shore,  Ooblooyah  had 
reached  the  top  of  the  slope,  and  he  signaled  us  to 
go  around,  as  the  land  was  an  island. 

When  we  reached  the  other  side,  we  found  where 
the  bear  had  descended  to  the  ice  again  and  kept  on 
across  the  remaining  width  of  the  fiord  to  the  western 
shore,  followed  by  Ooblooyah  and  his  dogs. 

A  most  peculiar  circumstance,  commented  on  by 
Egingwah  as  we  flew  along,  was  that  this  bear,  con- 
trary to  the  custom  of  bears  in  Eskimo  land,  did  not 
stop  when  the  dogs  reached  him,  but  kept  right  on 
traveling.  This  to  Egingwah  was  almost  certain  proof 
that  the  great  devil  himself  —  terrible  Tornarsuk  — 
was  in  that  bear.  At  the  thought  of  chasing  the  devil, 
my  sledge  companion  grew  even  more  excited. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  island  the  snow  was  deeper 
and  our  progress  slower,  and  when  we  reached  the 
western  shore  of  the  fiord,  up  which,  as  on  the  island, 
we  had  seen  from  a  distance  the  bear  and  Ooblooyah's 
dogs  slowly  climbing,  both  we  and  our  dogs  were 
pretty  well  winded.  But  we  were  encouraged  by  hear- 
ing the  barking  of  the  free  dogs  up  somewhere  among 
the  cliffs.    This  meant  that  the  bear  had  at  last  been 


148  THE   NORTH   POLE 

brought  to  bay.  When  we  reached  the  shore  our  dogs 
were  loosed  from  the  sledges.  They  swarmed  up  the 
hot  trail,  and  we  followed  as  best  we  could. 

A  little  farther  on  we  came  to  a  deep  canon,  and  as 
we  could  tell  by  the  sounds,  the  dogs  and  the  bear  were 
at  the  bottom.  But  where  we  stood  the  walls  were 
too  precipitous  for  even  an  Eskimo  to  descend,  and 
we  could  not  see  our  quarry.  He  was  evidently  under 
some  projecting  ledge  on  our  side. 

Moving  up  the  canon  to  find  a  place  of  descent,  I 
heard  Egingwah  shout  that  the  bear  had  started  down 
the  canon  and  was  climbing  up  the  other  side.  Hurry- 
ing back  through  the  deep  snow  and  over  the  rough 
rocks,  I  suddenly  saw  the.  beast,  perhaps  a  hundred 
yards  away,  and  raised  my  rifle.  But  I  must  have  been 
too  much  winded  to  take  good  aim,  for  though  I 
fired  two  shots  at  him  the  bear  kept  right  on  up  the 
canon  side.    Surely  Tornarsuk  was  in  him! 

I  found  that  I  had  given  the  stumps  of  both  my 
feet  —  my  toes  were  frozen  off  at  Fort  Conger  in  1899 
—  some  severe  blows  against  the  rocks;  and  as  they 
were  complaining  with  vehemence,  I  decided  not  to 
follow  the  bear  any  farther  along  the  steep  boulder- 
strewn  bluffs. 

Handing  my  rifle  to  Egingwah,  I  told  him  and 
Koolatoonah  to  go  after  the  bear  while  I  went  back 
down  the  bluffs  to  the  sledges  and  followed  along  the 
bay  ice.  But  before  I  had  gone  far  along  the  bay  ice 
shouting  was  heard  in  the  distance,  and  soon  an  Es- 
kimo appeared  on  a  summit  and  waved  his  hand  — 
a  signal  that  they  had  bagged  the  bear. 

Just  ahead,  and  abreast  of  where  the  Eskimo  had 


BIGGEST   GAME   IN  ARCTIC     149 

appeared,  was  the  mouth  of  a  ravine,  and  I  stopped 
the  sledge  there  and  waited.  In  a  httle  while  my  men 
appeared  slowly  working  their  way  down  the  ravine. 
The  dogs  which  had  been  in  at  the  death  were  attached 
to  the  bear,  as  if  he  had  been  a  sledge,  and  they  were 
dragging  him  after  them.  It  was  an  interesting  scene: 
the  steep  and  rocky  ravine  in  its  torn  mantle  of  snow, 
the  excited  dogs  straining  ahead  with  their  unusual 
burden,  the  inert  cream-colored,  blood-streaked  form 
of  the  great  bear,  and  the  shouting  and  gesticulating 
Eskimos. 

When  they  finally  got  the  bear  down  to  the  shore, 
and  while  I  was  taking  photographs  of  him,  the  Eski- 
mos walked  up  and  down  excitedly  discussing  the  now 
certain  fact  that  the  devil  had  been  in  this  animal, 
or  he  never  would  have  traveled  as  he  did  after  the 
dogs  overtook  him.  The  subtleties  of  arctic  demon- 
ology  being  beyond  the  grasp  of  any  mere  white  man, 
I  did  not  join  in  the  argument  as  to  whither  the  devil 
had  betaken  himself  when  the  rifle  of  Ooblooyah  laid 
low  his  fleshly  tenement. 

Our  prize  was  soon  skinned  and  cut  up  by  the 
skilful  knives  of  the  Eskimos,  the  meat  was  piled 
on  the  shore  for  future  parties  to  bring  back  to 
the  ship,  the  bearskin  was  carefully  folded  on  one 
of  the  sledges,,  and  we  returned  to  the  place  where 
we  had  first  seen  the  bear,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
bay. 

There  we  found  the  supplies  which  had  been  thrown 
from  the  sledges  to  lighten  them  for  the  bear  chase; 
and  as  the  men  and  dogs  were  tired  out,  and  we  were 
satisfied  with  the  day's  work,  we  camped  on  the  spot. 


150  THENORTHPOLE 

Our  tent  was  unfolded  and  set  up,  the  oil-stoves  were 
lighted,  and  we  had  a  plentiful  supply  of  bear  steak 
—  all  the  juicier,  perhaps,  for  the  recent  presence  of 


Tornarsuk. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


MUSK-OXEN  AT   LAST 


ON  the  next  march  we  had  gone  'only  some  six 
or  seven  miles  when,  rounding  a  point  on 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  Inlet,  we  saw  black 
dots  on  a  distant  hillside. 

"  Oomingmuksuel"  said  Ooblooyah,  excitedly,  and 
I  nodded  to  him,  well  pleased. 

To  the  experienced  hunter,  with  one  or  two  dogs, 
seeing  musk-oxen  should  be  equivalent  to  securing  them. 
There  may  be  traveling  over  the  roughest  kind  of 
rough  country,  with  wind  in  the  face  and  cold  in  the 
blood;  but  the  end  should  always  be  the  trophies  of 
hides,  horns,  and  juicy  meat. 

For  myself,  I  never  associate  the  idea  of  sport 
with  musk-oxen  —  too  often  in  the  years  gone  by 
the  sighting  of  those  black  forms  has  meant  the  diflFer- 
ence  between  life  and  death.  In  1899,  in  Independence 
Bay,  the  finding  of  a  herd  of  musk-oxen  saved  the  lives 
of  my  entire  party.  On  my  way  back  from  87°  6', 
in  1906,  if  we  had  not  found  musk-oxen  on  Nares 
Land,  the  bones  of  my  party  might  now  be  bleaching 
up  there  in  the  great  white  waste. 

When  we  saw  the  significant  black  dots  in  the 
distance,  we  headed  for  them.  There  were  five  close 
together,  and  another  a  little  way  oflF.  When  we  got 
within  less  than  a  mile,  two  of  the  dogs  were  loosed. 

isi 


152  THE   NORTH   POLE 

They  were  wild  with  excitement,  for  they  also  had  seen 
the  black  dots  and  knew  what  they  meant;  and  as 
soon  as  the  traces  were  unfastened  they  were  o£F  — 
straight  as  the  flight  of  a  homing  bee. 

We  followed,  at  our  leisure,  knowing  that  when 
we  arrived  the  herd  would  be  rounded  up,  ready  for 
our  rifles.  A  single  musk-ox,  when  he  sees  the  dogs, 
will  make  for  the  nearest  cliff  and  get  his  back  against 
it;  but  a  herd  of  them  will  round  up  in  the  middle  of 
a  plain  with  tails  together  and  heads  toward  the  enemy. 
Then  the  bull  leader  of  the  herd  will  take  his  place 
outside  the  round-up,  and  charge  the  dogs.  When 
the  leader  is  shot,  another  takes  his  place,  and  so  on. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  stood  again,  as  I  had  stood 
on  previous  expeditions,  with  that  bunch  of  shaggy 
black  forms,  gleaming  eyes  and  pointed  horns  before 
me  —  only  this  time  it  did  not  mean  life  or  death. 

Yet,  as  I  raised  my  rifle,  again  I  felt  clutching 
at  my  heart  that  terrible  sensation  of  life  hanging 
on  the  accuracy  of  my  aim;  again  in  my  bones  I  felt 
that  gnawing  hunger  of  the  past;  that  aching  lust  for 
red,  warm,  dripping  meat  —  the  feehng  that  the  wolf 
has  when  he  pulls  down  his  quarry.  He  who  has 
ever  been  really  hungry,  either  in  the  Arctic  or  else- 
where, will  understand  this  feeling.  Sometimes  the 
memory  of  it  rushes  over  me  in  unexpected  places. 
I  have  felt  it  after  a  hearty  dinner,  in  the  streets  of 
a  great  city,  when  a  lean-faced  beggar  has  held  out 
his  hand  for  alms. 

I  pulled  the  trigger,  and  the  bull  leader  of  the 
herd  fell  on  his  haunches.  The  bullet  had  found  the 
vulnerable  spot  under  the  fore  shoulder,  where  one 


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HEAD  OF  BULL  MUSK-OX  KILLED   ON  PAERY  PENINSULA 


MUSK-OXEN   AT   LAST  153 

should  always  shoot  a  musk-ox.  To  aim  at  the  head 
is  a  waste  of  ammunition. 

As  the  bull  went  down,  out  from  the  herd  came  a 
cow,  and  a  second  shot  accounted  for  her.  The  others, 
a  second  cow  and  two  yearlings,  were  the  work  of  a 
few  moments;  then  I  left  Ooblooyah  and  Koolatoonah 
to  skin  and  cut  them  up,  while  Egingwah  and  I  started 
for  the  single  animal,  a  couple  of  miles  away. 

As  the  dogs  approached  this  fellow,  he  launched 
up  the  hill  and  disappeared  over  a  nearby  crest.  The 
light  surface  snow  along  the  path  he  had  taken  was 
brushed  away  by  the  long,  matted  hair  of  his  sides 
and  belly,  which  hung  down  to  the  ground. 

The  dogs  had  disappeared  after  the  musk-ox,  but 
Egingwah  and  myself  were  guided  by  their  wild  bark- 
ing. Our  quarry  had  taken  refuge  among  the  huge 
rocks  in  the  bottom  of  a  stream-bed,  where  his  rear 
and  both  sides  were  protected,  and  there  he  stood  at 
bay  with  the  yelping  dogs  before  him. 

One  shot  was  enough;  and  leaving  Egingwah  to 
skin  and  cut  up  the  animal,  I  started  to  walk  back 
to  the  other  two  men,  as  it  had  been  decided  to  camp 
at  the  place  where  they  were  cutting  up  the  five  musk- 
oxen.  But  as  I  emerged  from  the  mouth  of  the  canon, 
I  saw  up  the  valley  still  another  of  the  big,  black 
shaggy  forms.  Quickly  I  retraced  my  steps,  and 
gathering  in  two  of  the  dogs,  secured  this  fellow  as 
easily  as  the  others. 

This  last  specimen  was,  however,  of  pecuUar 
interest,  as  the  white  hair  of  the  legs,  just  above  the 
hoofs,  was  dashed  with  a  bright  red — a  marking  which 
I  had  never  before  seen  in  any  of  these  arctic  animals. 


154  THENORTHPOLE 

Taking  the  dogs  with  me  and  leaving  the  musk- 
ox,  I  went  on  to  the  place  selected  for  a  camp.  Oob- 
loyah  and  Koolatoonah  were  just  finishing  cutting 
up  the  fifth  musk-ox,  and  were  immediately  sent 
off  with  a  sledge  and  team  of  dogs,  to  help  Egingwah 
with  the  two  big  bulls. 

When  they  were  gone,  I  set  up  the  tent  myself 
and  began  to  prepare  the  tea  for  our  supper.  As 
soon  as  the  voices  of  the  Eskimos  were  audible  in 
the  distance,  I  put  on  the  musk-ox  steaks  to  broil 
and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  enjoying  the  reward 
of  our  labor.  Surely  this  was  living  on  the  fat  of  the 
land  indeed,  deer  steak  the  second  night,  bear  steak 
last  night,  to-night  the  luscious  meat  of  the  musk-ox! 

In  the  morning  we  continued  our  course,  and  dur- 
ing the  day  three  more  musk-oxen  were  gathered  in, 
the  meat  being  cached  as  before.  That  night  we 
camped  at  the  head  of  the  hitherto  unexplored  inlet, 
and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  one  more 
stretch  of  previously  unknown  territory  had  been 
added  to  the  world's  map. 

Next  day  we  started  north  along  the  west  side  of 
the  inlet.  We  had  been  traveling  for  hours  and  were 
just  looking  for  a  suitable  place  to  camp,  being  then 
at  the  foot  of  a  steep  bluff  some  fifty  feet  in  height, 
when  suddenly  the  dogs  made  a  break  for  the  shore 
and  attempted  to  climb  the  bluff.  Of  course  they 
could  not  do  this  on  account  of  the  sledges;  but  we 
knew  what  their  wild  action  meant  —  more  musk- 
oxen. 

In  a  moment  Egingwah  and  I,  with  rifles  in  our 
hands,  were  climbing  the  bluff.     Peering  over  the  top 


MUSK-OXEN  AT  LAST  155 

we  saw  a  herd  of  five.  It  was  nearly  dark  now,  the 
arctic  twilight  being  so  dense  that  we  could  simply 
make  out  five  dark  spots.  We  waited  for  a  moment 
to  catch  our  breath,  then  I  motioned  to  Ooblooyah 
to  bring  two  of  the  dogs,  leaving  Koolatoonah  with 
the  others  at  the  sledges.  Notwithstanding  the  uncer- 
tain light,  we  made  short  work  of  this  herd. 

Again  I  pitched  the  tent  and  prepared  supper, 
while  my  brown  friends  paid  their  final  respects  to 
the  musk-oxen  on  the  bluff.  It  is  necessary  to  evis- 
cerate these  animals  as  soon  as  they  are  killed, 
otherwise  the  excessive  heat  of  the  great  shaggy  bodies 
will  cause  the  meat  to  become  tainted.  When  the 
three  Eskimos  came  down  to  the  tent  the  darkness 
was  already  upon  us  —  a  promise  of  the  long  black 
night  to  come. 

The  next  day  we  completed  the  circuit  of  the  west- 
ern shore  of  the  Inlet,  then  started  on  a  bee  line  for 
Sail  Harbor,  making  this  a  forced  march.  At  Sail 
Harbor  we  found  a  note  from  Bartlett,  showing  that 
he  had  passed  there  the  previous  day  on  his  way  back 
from  Cape  Columbia  to  the  ship. 

There  we  camped  again;  and  in  the  morning, 
while  the  men  were  breaking  camp  and  lashing  up 
the  sledges,  I  started  with  the  very  first  rays  of 
the  morning  light  across  the  peninsula  towards  James 
Ross  Bay.  As  I  crested  the  divide,  I  saw  —  down  on 
the  shore  of  the  Bay  —  a  group  of  dark  spots  which 
were  clearly  recognized  as  a  camp;  and  a  little  later 
I  sang  out  to  the  party,  which  comprised  the  divisions 
of  Bartlett,  Goodsell,  and  Borup. 

By  the  time  the  sleepy-eyed,  stiff  figures  of  the 


156  THENORTHPOLE 

three  men  —  who,  as  I  soon  learned,  had  been  asleep 
only  an  hour  or  so  —  emerged  from  the  tents,  my 
sledges  and  Eskimos  were  close  at  my  heels.  I  can 
see  now  the  bulging  eyes  of  the  men,  and  particularly 
of  young  Borup,  when  they  saw  the  sledge  loads  of 
shaggy  skins.  On  the  top  of  the  leading  sledge  was 
the  magnificent  snowy  pelt  of  the  polar  bear,  with 
the  head  forward;  behind  this  was  the  deerskin  with 
its  wide-antlered  head,  and  more  musk-ox  heads  than 
they  had  had  time  to  count. 

"Oh,  gee!"  exclaimed  Borup,  when  his  open- 
mouthed  astonishment  would  permit  of  articulation. 

I  had  no  time  for  visiting,  as  I  wanted  to  reach 
the  ship  on  that  march;  and  after  a  few  words  left 
the  men  to  finish  their  interrupted  sleep.  It  was 
long  after  dark  when  we  reached  the  Roosevelt.  We 
had  been  absent  seven  sleeps,  had  traveled  over  two 
hundred  miles,  had  accomplished  the  exploration  of 
Clements  Markham  Inlet,  had  made  a  rough  map  of 
it,  and  incidentally  had  obtained  magnificent  speci- 
mens of  the  three  great  animals  of  the  arctic  regions, 
thus  adding  a  few  thousand  pounds  of  fresh  meat  to 
our  winter  supply.  So,  with  a  feeling  of  entire  satis- 
faction, I  had  a  hot  bath  in  my  cabin  bathroom  on 
the  Roosevelt,  and  then  turned  in  to  my  bunk  for  a 
long  and  refreshing  sleep. 

Throughout  the  month  of  October  the  work  of 
transporting  supplies  and  of  hunting  went  on.  The 
captain  made  two  round  trips  from  the  ship  to  Cape 
Columbia;  but  he  was  working  backward  and  forward 
all  the  time  along  the  route.  In  the  course  of  this 
work  he  obtained  four  musk-oxen. 


•* 

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WEE-SHAK-UP-SI   AND    MUSK-OX   CALF 


BEAK   KILLED    IN   CLEMENTS    MAIiKHAM   INLET 


MUSK-OXEN   AT   LAST  157 

MacMillan  recovered  from  his  attack  of  grip,  and 
on  the  14th  of  October  was  sent  with  two  sledges, 
two  Eskimos,  and  twenty  dogs  to  make  a  survey  of 
Clements  Markham  Inlet  and  obtain  musk-oxen  and 
deer.  He  bagged  five  of  the  former.  The  last  of  the 
month  the  doctor  also  had  an  attack  of  grip,  which 
kept  him  in  bed  for  a  week  or  two.  Many  small 
parties  were  sent  out  on  short  hunting  trips  and  there 
was  hardly  a  day  during  the  fall  when  the  men  were 
all  on  the  ship  at  one  time. 

While,  from  the  time  of  our  arrival  at  Cape  Sheri- 
dan early  in  September  to  the  date  of  our  departure 
from  land  for  the  Pole  on  March  1,  every  member  of 
the  expedition  was  almost  constantly  engaged  in  work 
that  had  for  its  object  the  completing  of  preparations 
for  the  final  sledge  journey  in  the  spring,  no  small 
part  of  this  work  was  educational  in  purpose  and  result. 
That  is  to  say,  it  was  intended  to  inure  the  "tender- 
feet"  of  the  party  to  the  hardships  of  long  journeys 
over  rough  going  and  through  low  temperatures, 
snow  and  wind.  It  taught  them  how  to  take  care 
of  themselves  under  difficult  conditions,  how  to  defend 
themselves  against  the  ever-present  peril  of  frost-bite, 
how  to  get  the  greatest  comfort  and  protection  from 
their  fur  clothing,  how  to  handle  their  valuable  dogs 
and  how  to  manage  their  Eskimo  helpers  so  as  to  get 
the  best  results  from  their  efforts. 

An  entry  in  Dr.  Goodsell's  journal  is  so  typical 
of  the  chief  troubles  of  any  arctic  sledging  journey 
that  it  is  worth  repeating  here. 

"Have  been  utilizing  the  time,"  wrote  Dr.  Goodsell, 
"in  trying  to  dry  out  stockings  and  boots.     It  is  ex- 


158  THENORTHPOLE 

tremely  difficult  to  dry  out  stockings  because  of  the 
cold  and  the  necessity  of  economizing  fuel.  The  gen- 
eral procedure  is  to  discard  footgear  when  it  is  nearly 
saturated  with  moisture.  As  long  as  the  footgear  is  dry 
there  is  little  danger  of  frosting  the  feet,  if  ordinary 
precautions  are  taken.  With  wet  footgear  one  is  in 
constant  danger  of  freezing  the  feet.  The  oil-stove  with 
the  three-inch  burner  is  barely  sufficient  to  dry  the 
gloves,  of  which  two  pairs  are  worn,  an  outer  pair  of 
bearskin,  and  an  inner  pair  of  deerskin."  Another  jour- 
nal entry  deals  with  a  different  kind  of  peril: 

"Toxingwa  and  Weesockasee  were  overcome  by 
the  lack  of  oxygen  and  the  fumes  of  alcohol  while 
MacMillan  was  preparing  tea.  Weesockasee  fell  back 
as  though  asleep.  Toxingwa  was  twisting  around,  as 
though  to  get  his  arm  free  from  one  sleeve  of  his  jacket. 
He  too,  finally  fell  back.  MacMillan  surmised  the 
cause  and  kicked  the  door  to  one  side.  In  about 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  they  came  around  all  right. 
The  Commander  on  another  of  his  expeditions  nearly 
had  a  similar  experience  when  he  saw  his  Eskimos 
acting  strangely,  and  quickly  kicked  out  the  side  of 
the  igloo." 

Still  another  peril  that  is  omnipresent  in  sledge 
journeys  over  a  polar  sea  is  that  of  falling  through 
thin  ice  and  getting  thoroughly  wet.  Perhaps  it  is 
not  necessary  to  enlarge  upon  the  gravity  of  this  dan- 
ger, since  it  was  precisely  such  an  accident  that  cost 
Professor  Marvin  his  life.  Even  if  the  victim  of 
such  an  accideiit  should  be  able  to  drag  himself  out 
of  the  water,  he  would  in  all  probability  speedily 
freeze  to  death.     Death  by  freezing  comes  speedily 


MUSK-OXEN  AT  LAST  159 

to  a  water-soaked  man  when  temperatures  are  ranging 
anywhere  from  20  to  60  degrees  below  zero. 

"Just  finished  changing  my  boots  for  a  dry  pair," 
writes  the  doctor.  "Crossing  a  lead  covered  with 
thin  ice  and  fissured  in  the  center,  my  left  leg  went 
in  to  the  knee.  Fortunately  my  right  foot  was  for- 
ward on  firm  ice  and  I  threw  myself  ahead,  going 
down  on  my  left  knee  on  the  edge  of  firm  ice 
and  drawing  my  leg  out  of  the  water.  At  another 
lead  the  ice  gave  way  as  I  sprang  from  its  surface. 
My  right  foot  dipped  into  the  water  to  the  ankle.  I 
do  not  understand  why  I  did  not  go  down  bodily  into 
the  water.  Had  I  gone  in  to  my  waist  there  would 
have  been  a  serious  result,  for  the  sledges  were  some 
distance  away  and  the  temperature  was  47°  below 
zero.  In  the  absence  of  an  igloo  and  a  change  of 
clothes  near  at  hand,  a  ducking  in  this  temperature 
would  certainly  have  a  serious  termination." 

Trying  conditions  these  —  yet  the  thing  had  its 
irresistible  fascination,  and  now  and  then  came 
reflective  moments  like  the  one  on  February  25,  when 
the  doctor,  encamped  on  the  way  from  the  Roosevelt  to 
Cape  Columbia,  wrote  as  follows: 

"When  I  was  nearing  Point  Good,  insensibly  I 
paused  time  and  again  to  view  the  scene.  I  could 
see  Cape  Hecla  to  the  rear  and  the  Parry  Peninsula. 
In  advance  the  twin  peaks  of  Cape  Columbia  beckoned 
us  pn  to  the  second  point  of  departure  in  the  Com- 
mander's northward  march.  To  the  north  as  we  pro- 
gressed, beyond  the  comparatively  smooth  glacial 
fringe  loomed  the  floes  and  pinnacles  of  rough  ice 
which  will  try  us  all  to  the  utmost  for  weeks  to  come. 


160  THENORTHPOLE 

To  the  south  the  circumference  of  the  horizon  was 
bounded  by  the  sharp,  jagged,  serrated  mountain 
ranges,  mostly  parallel  to  the  coast.  Every  day  we 
have  a  glorious  dawn  lasting  for  hours.  A  golden 
gleam  is  radiated  from  parallel  ranges  of  serrated 
mountains.  Individual  peaks  reflect  the  light  of  the 
sun,  which  will  illuminate  them  with  its  direct  rays  in 
a  few  days.  There  is  a  cornea  of  golden  glow,  crim- 
son and  yellow,  with  strata  of  darker  clouds  floating 
parallel  to  the  coast  ranges  —  Turner  effects  for  hours 
each  day  and  for  days  in  succession,  the  effect  increas- 
ing from  day  to  day.  I  am  writing  under  diflSculties, 
Innighito  (an  Eskimo)  holding  the  candle.  My  hands 
are  so  cold  that  I  can  scarcely  guide  my  pencil,  as  I 
recline  on  the  bed  platform  of  the  igloo." 

But  all  this  anticipates.  On  the  12th  of  October 
the  sun  had  bidden  us  good-by  for  the  year,  and  the 
rapidly  darkening  twilight  increased  the  difficulties 
of  the  field  work.  Our  photographs  grew  daily  less 
satisfactory.  We  had  not  been  able  to  take  snap- 
shots since  about  the  middle  of  September;  for,  when 
the  sun  is  near  the  horizon,  though  the  light  is  appar- 
ently as  brilliant  as  in  summer,  it  seems  to  have  no 
actinic  power.  Our  first  time-exposures  were  five 
seconds;  our  last,  on  the  28th  of  October,  were  ninety 
minutes.  The  temperature  also  was  gradually  getting 
lower,  and  on  the  29th  of  October  it  was  26°  below 
zero. 

The  fall  work  ended  with  the  return  of  Bartlett 
and  his  party  from  Cape  Columbia,  on  November  5th, 
the  other  men  having  all  returned  before.  By  that 
time  the  light  had  disappeared,  and  it  would  be  neces- 


MUSK-OXEN  AT  LAST  161 

sary  to  wait  for  the  recurring  moons  of  the  long  winter 
night  before  we  could  do  any  more  work. 

We  had  gone  up  there  in  the  arctic  noon,  had 
worked  and  hunted  through  the  arctic  twilight,  and 
now  the  night  was  upon  us  —  the  long  arctic  night 
which  seems  like  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
With  nearly  all  the  supplies  for  the  spring  sledge 
journey  already  at  Cape  Columbia,  with  a  good  store 
of  fresh  meat  for  the  winter,  and  our  party  all  in  good 
health,  we  entered  the  Great  Dark  with  fairly  contented 
hearts.  Our  ship  was  apparently  safe;  we  were  well 
housed  and  well  fed;  and  if  sometimes  the  terrible 
melancholy  of  the  dark  clutched  for  a  moment  at 
the  hearts  of  the  men,  they  bravely  kept  the  secret 
from  each  other  and  from  me. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   LONG   NIGHT 

IT  may  well  be  doubted  if  it  is  possible  for  a  person 
who  has  never  experienced  four  months  of  con- 
stant darkness  to  imagine  what  it  is.  Every 
school  boy  learns  that  at  the  two  ends  of  the  earth  the 
year  is  composed  of  one  day  and  one  night  of  equal 
length,  and  the  intervening  periods  of  twilight;  but  the 
mere  recital  of  that  fact  makes  no  real  impression  on 
his  consciousness.  Only  he  who  has  risen  and  gone  to 
bed  by  lamplight,  and  risen  and  gone  to  bed  again  by 
lamplight,  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  month  after 
month,  can  know  how  beautiful  is  the  sunlight. 

Diu-ing  the  long  arctic  night  we  count  the  days  till 
the  light  shall  return  to  us,  sometimes,  toward  the  end 
of  the  dark  period,  checking  off  the  days  on  the  calendar 
—  thirty -one  days,  thirty  days,  twenty-nine  days,  and 
so  on,  till  we  shall  see  the  sun  again.  He  who  would 
understand  the  old  sun  worshipers  should  spend  a 
winter  in  the  Arctic. 

Imagine  us  in  otu*  winter  home  on  the  Roosevelt, 
four  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the  North  Pole:  the 
ship  held  tight  in  her  icy  berth,  a  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  from  the  shore,  the  ship  and  the  surrounding 
world  covered  with  snow,  the  wind  creaking  in  the 
rigging,  whistling  and  shrieking  around  the  corners 
of  the  deck  houses,  the  temperature  ranging  from  zero 

162 


K 
O 


O 

o 
o 


5; 
o 


K  -S 


SI 

t^     bo 

>  .H 
H    S 

OS 

« 

w 
M 
H 

O 

o 


p 


THELONGNIGHT  163 

to  sixty  below  and  the  ice-pack  in  the  channel  outside 
groaning  and  complaining  with  the  movement  of  the 
tides. 

During  the  moonlit  period  of  each  month,  some  eight 
or  ten  days,  when  the  moon  seems  to  circle  round  and 
round  the  heavens,  the  younger  members  of  the  expedi- 
tion were  nearly  always  away  on  hunting  trips;  but 
during  the  longer  periods  of  utter  blackness  most  of  us 
were  on  the  ship  together,  as  the  winter  hunting  is  done 
only  by  moonlight. 

It  must  be  understood  that  the  arctic  moon  has  its 
regular  phases,  its  only  peculiarity  being  the  course  it 
appears  to  travel  in  the  sky.  When  the  weather  is 
clear  there  is  starlight,  even  in  the  dark  period;  but  it 
is  a  peculiar,  cold,  and  spectral  starlight,  which,  to 
borrow  the  words  of  Milton,  seems  but  to  make  the 
"darkness  visible." 

When  the  stars  are  hidden,  which  may  be  much  of 
the  time,  the  darkness  is  so  thick  that  it  seems  as  if  it 
could  almost  be  grasped  with  the  hand,  and  in  a  driving 
wind  and  snowstorm,  if  a  man  ventures  to  put  his  head 
outside  the  cabin  door,  he  seems  to  be  hurled  back  by 
invisible  hands  of  demoniacal  strength. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  winter  the  Esldmos  lived 
in  the  forward  deck  house  of  the  ship.  There  was 
always  a  fire  in  the  galley  stove,  a  fire  in  the  Eskimo 
quarters,  and  one  in  the  crew's  quarters;  but  though 
I  had  a  small  cylindrical  coal  stove  in  my  cabin,  it  was 
not  lighted  throughout  the  winter.  Leaving  the  for- 
ward door  of  my  cabin  open  into  the  galley  a  part 
of  the  time,  kept  my  cabin  comfortably  warm.  Bart- 
lett  occasionally  had  a  fire  in  his  cabin,  and  the  other 


164  THENORTHPOLE 

members  of  the  expedition  sometimes  lighted  their  oil- 
stoves. 

On  the  first  of  November  we  adopted  the  winter 
schedule  of  two  meals  a  day,  breakfast  at  nine,  dinner  at 
four.  This  is  the  weekly  bill  of  fare  which  Percy,  the 
steward,  and  I  made  out  and  which  was  followed 
throughout  the  winter 

Monday.  Breakfast:  Cereal.  Beans  and  brown 
bread.  Butter.  Coffee.  Dinner:  Liver  and  bacon. 
Macaroni  and  cheese.     Bread  and  butter.     Tea. 

Tuesday.  Breakfast:  Oatmeal.  Ham  and  eggs. 
Bread  and  butter.  Coffee.  Dinner:  Corned  beef  and 
creamed  peas.     Duff.     Tea. 

Wednesday,  Breakfast:  Choice  of  two  kinds  of 
cereal.  Fish,  forward  (that  is,  for  the  sailors) ;  sausage, 
aft  (for  the  members  of  the  expedition).  Bread  and 
butter.  Coffee.  Dinner:  Steak  and  tomatoes.  Bread 
and  butter.     Tea. 

Thursday.  Breakfast:  Cereal.  Ham  and  eggs. 
Bread  and  butter.  Coffee.  Dinner:  Corned  beef  and 
peas.     Duff.     Tea. 

Friday.  Breakfast:  Choice  of  cereal.  Fish.  Ham- 
burger on  starboard  (our  own)  table.  Bread  and  but- 
ter. Coffee.  Dinner:  Pea  soup.  Fish.  Cranberry  pie. 
Bread  and  butter.    Tea. 

Saturday.  Breakfast:  Cereal.  Meat  stew.  Bread 
and  butter.  Coffee.  Dinner:  Steak  and  tomatoes. 
Bread  and  butter.     Tea. 

Sunday.  Breakfast:  Cereal.  "Brooze"  (Newfound- 
land hard  biscuit,  softened  and  boiled  with  salt  cod- 
fish). Bread  and  butter.  Coffee.  Dinner:  Salmon 
trout.      Fruit.     Chocolate. 


THELONGNIGHT  165 

Our  table  conversation  was  mainly  with  regard  to 
our  work.  We  would  discuss  the  details  of  the  last 
sledge  trip,  or  talk  over  the  plans  for  the  next  one. 
There  was  always  something  going  on,  and  the  minds  of 
the  men  were  so  occupied  that  they  did  not  have  time 
to  yield  themselves  to  the  traditional,  maddening  winter 
melancholy  of  the  Arctic.  Moreover,  men  of  sanguine 
temperament  had  been  selected,  and  much  material 
in  the  rough  had  been  carried  along  in  order  to  keep 
everybody  busy  working  it  into  shape  for  use. 

On  Simday  mornings  I  breakfasted  in  my  cabin,  thus 
leaving  the  men  to  themselves.  On  these  occasions 
conversation  was  less  technical  and  ranged  from  books 
to  table  manners,  and  sometimes  Bartlett  seized  the 
opportunity  to  give  his  companions  half-serious,  half- 
humorous  advice  on  the  matter  of  table  conduct,  telling 
them  that  the  time  would  come  when  they  must  return 
to  civilization,  and  that  they  must  not  allow  themselves 
to  get  into  careless  habits.  Thus  the  academic  and 
the  practical  elements  of  the  party  met  on  even 
ground. 

I  have  never  adopted  rigorous  rules  for  the  members 
of  my  expeditions,  because  it  is  not  necessary.  There 
were  regular  hours  for  meals  in  the  mess  rooms.  It 
was  understood  that  lights  should  be  out  at  midnight, 
but  if  any  man  wanted  a  light  later,  he  could  have  it. 
These  were  our  rules. 

The  Eskimos  were  allowed  to  eat  when  they  pleased. 
They  might  sit  up  late  at  night,  if  they  chose,  but  their 
work  of  making  sledges  and  fur  clothing  had  to  pro- 
ceed just  the  same  the  next  day.  There  was  only 
one  rigid  rule  for  them:  that  no  loud  noises,  such  as 


166  THENORTHPOLE 

chopping  dog  meat  or  shouting,  were  to  be  made  from 
ten  o'clock  at  night  until  eight  in  the  morning. 

While  living  on  the  Roosevelt,  in  winter  quarters,  we 
abandoned  much  of  the  routine  of  ship  life  afloat.  The 
only  regular  bells  were  those  at  ten  and  twelve  at  night, 
the  first  a  signal  for  all  loud  noises  to  cease,  the  latter  a 
signal  for  lights  to  be  turned  out.  The  only  watches 
were  those  of  the  regular  day  and  night  watchmen. 

With  the  exception  of  a  few  cases  of  grip,  the  health 
of  the  party  was  good  during  the  whole  period  of  our 
life  at  winter  quarters.  Grip  in  the  Arctic,  coincident 
with  epidemics  in  Europe  and  America,  is  rather  an 
interesting  phenomenon.  My  first  experience  with  it 
was  in  1892,  following  one  of  the  peculiar  Greenland 
storms,  similar  to  those  in  the  Alps  —  a  storm  which 
evidently  swept  over  the  entire  width  of  Greenland  from 
the  southeast,  raising  the  temperature  from  the  minus 
thirties  to  plus  forty -one  in  twenty-four  hours.  Follow- 
ing that  atmospheric  disturbance  every  member  of  my 
party,  and  even  some  of  the  Eskimos,  had  a  pronounced 
attack  of  grip.  It  was  our  opinion  that  the  germs  were 
brought  to  us  by  this  storm,  which  was  more  than  a 
local  disturbance. 

Aside  from  rheumatism  and  bronchial  troubles,  the 
Eskimos  are  fairly  healthy;  but  the  adults  are  subject 
to  a  peculiar  nervous  affection  which  they  call  piblokto 
—  a  form  of  hysteria.  I  have  never  known  a  child  to 
have  piblokto;  but  some  one  among  the  adult  Eskimos 
would  have  an  attack  every  day  or  two,  and  one  day 
there  were  five  cases.  The  immediate  cause  of  this 
affection  is  hard  to  trace,  though  sometimes  it  seems  to 
be  the  result  of  a  brooding  over  absent  or  dead  relatives, 


THE    LONG    NIGHT  167 

or  a  fear  of  the  future.  The  manifestations  of  this  dis- 
order are  somewhat  startUng, 

The  patient,  usually  a  woman,  begins  to  scream  and 
tear  off  and  destroy  her  clothing.  If  on  the  ship,  she 
will  walk  up  and  down  the  deck,  screaming  and  gesticu- 
lating, and  generally  in  a  state  of  nudity,  though  the 
thermometer  may  be  in  the  minus  forties.  As  the 
intensity  of  the  attack  increases,  she  will  sometimes 
leap  over  the  rail  upon  the  ice,  running  perhaps  half  a 
mile.  The  attack  may  last  a  few  minutes,  an  hour,  or 
even  more,  and  some  sufferers  become  so  wild  that  they 
would  continue  running  about  on  the  ice  perfectly 
naked  until  they  froze  to  death,  if  they  were  not 
forcibly  brought  back. 

When  an  Eskimo  is  attacked  with  piblokto  indoors, 
nobody  pays  much  attention,  unless  the  sufferer  should 
reach  for  a  knife  or  attempt  to  injure  some  one.  The 
attack  usually  ends  in  a  fit  of  weeping,  and  when 
the  patient  quiets  down,  the  eyes  are  bloodshot,  the 
pulse  high,  and  the  whole  body  trembles  for  an  hour 
or  so  afterward. 

The  well-known  madness  among  the  Eskimo  dogs 
is  also  called  piblokto.  Though  it  does  not  seem  to  be 
infectious,  its  manifestations  are  similar  to  those  of 
hydrophobia.  Dogs  suffering  from  piblokto  are  usually 
shot,  but  they  are  often  eaten  by  the  Eskimos. 

The  first  winter  moon  came  early  in  November, 
and  on  the  7th  MacMillan  started  for  Cape  Columbia 
for  a  month  of  tidal  observations,  taking  with  him  Jack 
Barnes,  a  sailor,  Egingwah,  and  Inighito  and  their 
wives.  Poodloonah,  Ooblooah  and  Seegloo  went  as 
MacMillan's  supporting  party,  to  carry  supplies,  and 


168  THE   NORTH   POLE 

Wesharkoopsee  and  Keshimgwah  started  for  Cape 
Richardson  to  bring  back  the  musk-ox  skins  which  had 
been  left  there  during  the  fall  hiinting  trips. 

The  tidal  observations  by  MacMillan  at  Cape 
Columbia  were  made  in  connection  with  the  tidal 
observations  which  were  constantly  going  on  at  Cape 
Sheridan  during  the  faU  and  winter,  and  with  those 
taken  later  at  Cape  Bryant  on  the  other  side  of  Robeson 
Channel.  These  tidal  observations  of  the  expedition 
of  1908-09  were  the  farthest  north  of  all  continuous 
series  ever  recorded  anywhere,  though  similar  obser- 
vations had  been  taken  by  the  Lady  Franklin  Bay 
Expedition  at  Fort  Conger,  about  sixty  miles  southwest. 

Marvin  and  Borup,  during  the  November  moon, 
continued  the  tidal  observations  at  Cape  Sheridan. 
The  tidal  igloo,  which  was  built  on  the  ice  just  inside 
the  tide  crack,  about  one  hundred  and  eighty  yards 
from  the  ship,  was  an  ordinary  Eskimo  snow  igloo  and 
was  used  as  a  protection  to  the  men  in  taking  the  obser- 
vations at  the  tide  staff.  This  staff,  about  twelve  feet 
long,  was  driven  into  the  bottom,  and  its  length  was 
marked  off  in  feet  and  inches.  As  the  tide  rose  and 
fell,  the  ice  and  the  igloo  moved  with  the  water,  but  the 
staff  remained  stationary,  and  by  the  position  of 
the  ice  upon  the  staff  we  measured  the  tides,  varying 
with  the  day,  the  moon  and  the  season. 

The  tides  along  the  north  coast  of  Grant  Land  are 
remarkable  for  the  slightness  of  the  rise  and  fall,  which 
varies  from  an  average  of  1.8  feet  at  Cape  Sheridan  to 
.8  at  Cape  Columbia.  As  is  well  known  to  navigators, 
the  tides  at  Sandy  Hook,  New  York,  sometimes  rise 
twelve  feet,  while  the  tides  in  the  Bay  of  Ftuidy  are 


THELONGNIGHT  169 

often  over  fifty  feet;  in  Hudson  Strait  they  are  about 
forty,  and  there  are  places  on  the  coast  of  China  where 
the  extreme  rise  is  even  greater. 

The  two  Eskimo  women  were  sent  to  Cape  Columbia 
with  MacMillan's  party  because  the  Eskimo  men  like 
to  have  their  families  with  them  when  they  go  on  long 
trips.  The  women  are  useful  in  drying  and  mending 
the  fur  garments  which  are  constantly  going  to  pieces 
in  the  rough  usage  of  the  sledge  trips.  Some  of  them 
can  drive  a  dog  team  as  well  as  the  men,  and  many  of 
them  are  good  shots.  I  have  known  them  to  shoot 
musk-oxen  and  even  bears.  They  do  not  attempt  the 
walrus,  yet  they  can  paddle  a  kayak  as  well  as  the  men 
—  to  the  limit  of  their  strength. 

The  accomplishments  of  the  Eskimo  women  are  of 
the  useful  rather  than  the  ornamental  kind.  The  hand- 
ling of  the  native  lamp,  for  instance,  requires  great  skill. 
If  the  lamp  is  well  trimmed,  it  is  as  clear  and  smoke- 
less as  our  own  lamps;  if  it  is  neglected,  it  smokes  and 
smells  vilely.  As  the  Eskimos  are  not  highly  romantic, 
a  woman's  skill  in  dressing  skins  and  in  making  clothes 
largely  determines  the  quality  of  husband  she  is  likely 
to  get.  The  Eskimo  men  have  not  a  very  critical  eye 
for  feminine  beauty,  but  they  are  strong  in  appreciation 
of  domestic  accomplishments. 

Even  so  early  as  November  we  began  to  be  worried 
about  the  dogs.  Many  of  them  had  died;  they  were 
nearly  all  in  poor  condition,  and  the  food  was  none  too 
abundant.  It  is  always  necessary  to  take  up  twice  as 
many  dogs  as  wiU  be  needed,  in  order  to  provide  for 
probable  accidents.  On  the  8th  of  November  there 
were  only  one  hundred  and  ninety-three  out  of  the 


170  THENORTH    POLE 

two  hundred  and  forty-six  with  which  we  had  left  Etah 
in  August.  The  whale  meat  brought  for  them  seemed 
to  be  lacking  in  nutrition. 

Four  more  that  were  in  the  worst  condition  were 
killed,  to  save  the  dog  food,  and  on  the  10th  we  had  to 
kill  five  more.  Then  we  tried  the  experiment  of  feeding 
them  on  pork,  with  the  result  that  seven  more  died.  I 
began  to  wonder  whether  we  should  have  enough  dogs 
left  for  the  spring  journey  toward  the  Pole. 

It  is  absolutely  impossible  to  figure  on  the  Eskimo 
dog's  uncertain  tenure  of  life.  The  creatures  will 
endure  the  severest  hardships;  they  will  travel  and  draw 
heavy  loads  on  practically  nothing  to  eat;  they  will 
live  for  days  exposed  to  the  wildest  arctic  blizzard; 
and  then,  sometimes  in  good  weather,  after  an  ordinary 
meal  of  apparently  the  best  food,  they  will  lie  down  and 
die. 

On  the  25th  of  November  we  again  overhauled  and 
counted  the  dogs.  There  were  now  only  one  hundred 
and  sixty  left,  and  ten  of  these  were  in  bad  condition. 
But  I  discovered  that  day,  on  having  the  frozen  walrus 
meat  ripped  up  on  the  forecastle,  that  we  had  a  greater 
supply  than  we  had  believed,  and  the  discovery  drove 
away  the  nightmare  which  had  been  haunting  us.  From 
now  on  the  dogs  could  be  fed  a  little  more  generous 
allowance  of  the  best  kind  of  food.  For,  after  we  had 
tried  practically  everything,  including  our  bacon,  it 
was  found  that  walrus  meat  agreed  with  them  better 
than  anything  else. 

The  importance  of  this  matter  must  not  be  lost  sight 
of  for  an  instant.  Dogs,  and  plenty  of  them,  were 
vitally  necessary  to  the  success  of  the  expedition.    Had 


THE    LONG    NIGHT  171 

an  epidemic  deprived  us  of  these  animals,  we  might  just 
as  well  have  remained  comfortably  at  home  in  the 
United  States.  All  the  money,  brains  and  labor  would 
have  been  utterly  thrown  away,  so  far  as  concerned 
the  quest  of  the  North  Pole. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   EOOSEVELT's   NARROW   ESCAPE 

IT  is  perfectly  true  that  the  building  business  is  not 
extensive  in  the  arctic  regions,  but  it  is  also  a  fact 
that  if  you  expect  to  travel  extensively  there  you 
must  know  how  to  build  your  own  dwellings.  If  you 
neglect  to  instruct  yourself  in  this  direction  the  chances 
are  that  some  time  or  other  you  will  regret  it. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  autumn  field  work,  the  use  of 
the  canvas  tents  had  been  discontinued,  and  snow  igloos 
had  been  constructed  along  the  line  of  march.  These 
were  permanent,  and  were  used  by  the  various  parties, 
one  after  the  other.  The  new  members  of  the  expedi- 
tion were  instructed  in  the  art  of  igloo  building  by  Mar- 
vin, Henson,  and  the  Eskimos.  No  man  should  go  into 
the  field  in  the  North  in  winter  unless  he  knows  how  to 
build  a  shelter  for  himself  against  the  cold  and  the 
storm. 

The  size  of  the  igloo  depends  usually  upon  the  num- 
ber of  men  in  the  party.  If  built  for  three  men,  it  will 
be  about  five  by  eight  feet  on  the  inside;  if  for  five  men, 
it  will  be  about  eight  by  ten,  in  order  to  give  greater 
width  to  the  sleeping  platform. 

Four  good  men  can  build  one  of  these  snow  houses 
in  an  hour.  Each  takes  a  saw  knife  from  the  up-stand- 
ers  of  the  sledge  and  sets  to  work  cutting  snow  blocks. 
The  saw  knives  are  about  eighteen  inches  long  and  are 

172 


THE   ROOSEVELT'S   ESCAPE    173 

strong  and  stiff,  with  a  cutting  edge  on  one  side  and  saw- 
teeth on  the  other.  The  blocks  of  snow  are  of  different 
sizes,  those  for  the  bottom  row  being  larger  and  heavier 
than  those  for  the  upper  rows,  and  all  are  curved  on 
the  inner  side,  so  that  when  set  together  they  will  form 
a  circle.  The  thickness  of  the  walls  depends  upon  the 
hardness  of  the  snow.  If  it  is  closely  packed,  the  walls 
may  be  only  a  few  inches  thick;  if  the  snow  is  soft,  the 
blocks  are  thicker,  that  they  may  hold  their  shape. 
The  blocks  for  the  bottom  layer  are  sometimes  two  or 
three  feet  long  and  two  feet  high;  but  sometimes  they 
are  much  smaller,  as  there  is  no  ironclad  rule  about  it. 

When  sufficient  blocks  have  been  cut  to  make  an 
igloo,  an  Eskimo  takes  his  position  on  the  spot  (usually 
a  sloping  bank  of  snow)  which  is  to  be  the  center  of 
the  structure.  Then  the  others  bring  the  snow  blocks 
and  place  them  end  to  end,  on  edge,  to  form  an  egg- 
shaped  ring  about  the  man  in  the  center,  who  deftly 
joints  and  fits  them  with  his  snow  knife.  The  second 
row  is  placed  on  top  of  the  first,  but  sloping  slightly 
inward;  and  the  following  rows  are  carried  up  in  a 
gradually  ascending  spiral,  each  successive  layer  lean- 
ing inward  a  little  more,  and  each  block  held  in  place 
by  the  blocks  on  either  side,  until  finally  an  aperture 
is  left  in  the  top  to  be  filled  with  one  block. 

This  block  is  then  properly  shaped  by  the  man  inside 
the  igloo;  he  pushes  it  up  endwise  through  the  aperture, 
turns  it  over  by  reaching  through  the  top,  lowers  it  into 
place,  and  chips  off  with  his  knife  until  it  fits  the  hole 
like  the  keystone  of  an  arch,  firmly  keying  the  structure, 
whose  general  proportions  are  not  unlike  those  of 
a  beehive. 


174  THENORTHPOLE 

A  hole  just  large  enough  for  a  man  to  crawl  through 
is  cut  close  to  the  bottom  on  one  side,  and  any  super- 
fluous snow  inside  the  igloo  is  thrown  out  through  this 
hole.  In  the  rear  or  larger  end,  the  sloping  floor  is 
leveled  off  to  form  a  bed  platform,  and  in  front  of  this 
the  floor  is  dug  down  a  foot  or  more  for  a  standing  space 
and  a  place  for  the  cookers. 

Then  the  sleeping  gear  and  cooking  outfit  are  passed 
into  the  igloo,  and,  after  the  dogs  have  been  fed  and 
tethered  for  the  night,  the  members  of  the  party  enter, 
the  opening  at  the  bottom  is  closed  by  a  large  block  of 
snow,  the  edges  of  which  have  been  shaped  and  chipped 
by  a  saw  knife  to  make  a  tight  joint,  and  everything 
is  ready  for  the  night. 

After  the  cookers  are  lighted,  the  igloo  is  soon  com- 
paratively warm,  and  in  the  arctic  regions,  when  men 
are  tired  out  from  a  long  march,  they  generally  fall 
asleep  easily.  Insomnia  is  not  one  of  the  arctic 
annoyances. 

We  never  carry  alarm  clocks  in  the  field  to  arouse 
us  in  the  morning.  The  first  man  who  has  had  his 
sleep  out  looks  at  his  watch,  and  if  it  is  time  to  be  on  the 
march  again,  he  wakes  the  others.  After  breakfast 
we  break  camp  and  are  out  again. 

I  did  not  join  the  field  parties  during  the  winter 
moons  this  time,  but  remained  on  the  ship,  going  over 
and  perfecting  the  plans  for  the  spring  campaign  —  the 
sledge  journey  toward  the  Pole  —  and  giving  consid- 
erable study  to  the  new  type  of  Peary  sledge,  to  the 
improvement  of  details  of  clothing,  and  to  experiment- 
ing with  the  new  alcohol  stove  which  I  had  designed 
for  the  spring  work  —  determining  the  most  effective 


THE   ROOSEVELT'S   ESCAPE    175 

charge  of  alcohol,  the  most  effective  size  of  broken  ice 
for  melting,  and  so  on.  The  question  of  weights  is  a 
most  important  factor  in  all  sledge  equipment,  and  it 
was  necessary  constantly  to  study  to  obtain  the  maxi- 
mum effectiveness  with  the  minimum  weight  arid  bulk. 
For  relaxation,  I  devoted  many  hours  to  a  new  form 
of  taxidermy. 

About  the  middle  of  November  I  had  a  large  snow 
igloo  built  on  the  top  of  the  hatch  on  the  main  deck  of 
the  Roosevelt,  which  we  called  "the  studio,"  and  Borup 
and  I  began  to  experiment  with  flashlight  pictures  of 
the  Eskimos.  They  had  become  accustomed  to  seeing 
counterfeit  presentments  of  themselves  on  paper,  and 
were  very  patient  models.  We  also  got  some  good 
moonlight  pictures  —  time  exposures  varying  from  ten 
minutes  to  two  or  three  hours. 

On  this  last  expedition  I  did  not  permit  myself  to 
dream  about  the  future,  to  hope,  or  to  fear.  On  the 
1905-06  expedition  I  had  done  too  much  dreaming;  this 
time  I  knew  better.  Too  often  in  the  past  had  I  found 
myself  face  to  face  with  impassable  barriers.  When- 
ever I  caught  myself  building  air  castles,  I  would  either 
attack  some  work  requiring  intense  application  of  the 
mind,  or  would  go  to  sleep  —  it  was  hard  sometimes  to 
fight  back  the  dreams,  especially  in  my  solitary  walks 
on  the  ice-foot  under  the  arctic  moon. 

On  the  evening  of  November  11,  there  was  a  brilliant 
paraselene,  .two  distinct  halos  and  eight  false  moons 
being  visible  in  the  southern  sky.  This  phenomenon 
is  not  unusual  in  the  Arctic,  and  is  caused  by  the  frost 
crystals  in  the  air.  On  this  particular  occasion  the 
inner  halo  had  a  false  moon  at  its  zenith,  another  at 


176  THENORTHPOLE 

its  nadir,  and  one  each  at  the  right  and  left.    Outside 
was  another  halo,  with  four  other  moons. 

Sometimes  during  the  summer  we  see  the  parhelion, 
a  similar  phenomenon  of  the  sun.  I  have  seen  the 
appearance  of  the  false  suns  —  or  sun-dogs  as  the  sailors 
call  them  —  so  near  that  the  lowest  one  would  seem  to 
fall  between  me  and  a  snow-bank  twenty  feet  away,  so 
near  that  by  moving  my  head  backward  and  forward  I 
could  shut  it  out  or  bring  it  into  view.  This  was  the 
nearest  I  ever  came  to  finding  the  pot  of  gold  at  the 
foot  of  the  rainbow. 

On  the  night  of  November  12,  the  ice  of  the  channel 
pack,  which  for  more  than  two  months  had  seemed 
unmindful  of  our  intrusive  presence,  arose  in  wrath  and 
tried  to  hurl  us  upon  the  equally  inhospitable  shore. 

All  that  evening  the  wind  had  been  gradually 
increasing  in  violence,  and  about  half -past  eleven  the 
ship  began  to  complain,  creaking,  groaning  and  mutter- 
ing to  herself.  I  lay  in  my  bimk  and  listened  to  the 
wind  in  the  humming  rigging,  while  the  moonlight, 
shining  through  the  porthole,  filled  the  cabin  with  dim 
shadows.  Toward  midnight,  mingled  with  the  noises 
of  the  ship,  another  and  more  ominous  sound  became 
audible  —  the  grinding  of  the  ice  in  the  channel  outside, 

I  threw  on  my  clothes  and  went  on  deck.  The  tide 
was  running  flood,  and  the  ice  was  moving  resistlessly 
past  the  point  of  the  cape.  The  nearer  ice,  between  us 
and  the  outer  pack,  was  humming  and  groaning  with 
the  steadily  increasing  pressure.  By  the  light  of  the 
moon  we  could  see  the  pack  as  it  began  to  break  and 
pile  up  just  beyond  the  edge  of  the  ice-foot  outside  us. 
A  few  minutes  later  the  whole  mass  broke  with  a  rabid 


THE   ROOSEVELT'S   ESCAPE    177 

roar  into  a  tumbling  chaos  of  ice  blocks,  some  upheaving, 
some  going  under,  and  a  big  rafter,  thirty  feet  high, 
formed  at  the  edge  of  the  ice-foot  within  twenty  feet  of 
the  ship.  The  invading  mass  grew  larger  and  larger 
and  steadily  advanced  toward  us.  The  grounded  piece 
off  our  starboard  beam  was  forced  in  and  driven  against 
the  big  ice  block  under  our  starboard  quarter.  The 
ship  shook  a  little,  but  the  ice  block  did  not  move. 

With  every  pulse  of  the  tide  the  pressure  and  the 
motion  continued,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  from  the 
time  I  had  come  on  deck,  a  great  floe  berg  was  jammed 
against  the  side  of  the  Roosevelt  from  amidships  to  the 
stern.  It  looked  for  a  minute  as  if  the  ship  were  going 
to  be  pushed  bodily  aground. 

All  hands  were  called,  and  every  fire  on  board  was 
extinguished.  I  had  no  fear  of  the  ship  being  crushed  by 
the  ice,  but  she  might  be  thrown  on  her  side,  when  the 
coals,  spilled  from  a  stove,  might  start  that  horror  of 
an  arctic  winter  night,  the  "ship  on  fire."  The 
Eskimos  were  thoroughly  frightened  and  set  up  their 
weird  howling.  Several  families  began  to  gather  their 
belongings,  and  in  a  few  minutes  women  and  children 
were  going  over  the  port  rail  onto  the  ice,  and  making 
for  the  box  houses  on  the  shore. 

The  list  of  the  Roosevelt  toward  the  port  or  shore 
side  grew  steadily  greater  with  the  increasing  pressure 
from  outside.  With  the  turn  of  the  tide  about  half -past 
one  in  the  morning,  the  motion  ceased,  but  the  Roose- 
velt never  regained  an  even  keel  until  the  following 
spring.  The  temperature  that  night  was  25°  below 
zero,  but  it  did  not  seem  so  very  cold. 

Marvin's  tidal  igloo  was  split  in  two,  but  he  con- 


178  THE    NORTH   POLE 

tinued  his  observations,  which  were  of  peculiar  interest 
that  night;  and  as  soon  as  the  ice  had  quieted  down 
Eskimos  were  sent  out  to  repair  the  igloo. 

Strange  to  say,  none  of  the  Eskimos  was  attacked 
with  piblokto  because  of  their  fright,  and  I  learned  that 
one  of  the  women,  Ahtetah,  had  remained  quietly  sewing 
in  the  Eskimo  quarters  during  the  whole  disturbance. 
After  this  experience,  however,  some  of  the  Eskimo 
families  took  up  their  winter  residence  in  the  box  houses 
and  in' snow  igloos  ashore. 

The  winter  winds  of  the  Far  North  are  almost  unim- 
aginable by  any  one  who  has  never  experienced  them. 
Our  winter  at  Cape  Sheridan  this  last  time  was  less 
severe  than  the  winter  of  1905-06,  but  we  had  several 
storms  that  reminded  us  of  old  times.  The  north  and 
northwest  winds  sweeping  down  along  the  coast  are 
the  coldest;  but  for  absolutely  insane  fury  the  winds 
from  the  south  and  the  southwest,  falling  off  the  high- 
land of  the  coast  with  almost  the  impact  of  a  wall  of 
water,  are  unsurpassed  anywhere  else  in  the  arctic 
regions. 

Sometimes  these  storms  come  on  gradually,  the  wind 
from  the  northwest  steadily  increasing  in  force  and 
swinging  through  the  west  to  the  southwest,  gathering 
fury  with  every  hour,  until  the  snow  is  picked  up  bodily 
from  the  land  and  the  ice-foot  and  carried  in  blinding, 
horizontal  sheets  across  the  ship.  On  deck  it  is  impos- 
sible to  stand  or  move,  except  in  the  shelter  of  the  rail, 
and  so  blinding  is  the  cataract  of  snow  that  the  lamps, 
powerful  as  are  their  reflectors,  are  absolutely  indis- 
tinguishable ten  feet  away. 

When  a  party  in  the  field  is  overtaken  by  a  storm, 


THE   ROOSEVELT'S   ESCAPE     179 

they  have  to  stay  in  the  snow  igloo  until  the  fury  is 
over.  If  there  is  no  igloo  near  them,  they  build  one 
just  as  quickly  as  they  can  when  they  see  the  storm 
approaching,  or,  if  there  is  not  time  for  that,  they  have 
to  make  a  dugout  in  a  snow  bank. 

Thursday,  the  26th  of  November,  was  proclaimed 
to  be  Thanksgiving  Day  in  Grant  Land.  For  dinner 
we  had  soup,  macaroni  and  cheese,  and  mince  pie  made 
of  musk-ox  meat.  During  the  December  moon  Captain 
Bartlett,  with  two  Eskimos,  two  sledges,  and  twelve 
dogs,  went  out  to  scour  the  region  between  the  ship  and 
Lake  Hazen  for  game.  Henson,  with  similar  equip- 
ment, went  to  Clements  Markham  Inlet.  Borup,  with 
seven  Eskimos,  seven  sledges,  and  forty-two  dogs,  set 
out  for  Cape  Colan  and  Cape  Columbia.  Dr.  Goodsell 
started  at  the  same  time  with  three  Eskimos,  two 
sledges,  and  twelve  dogs,  to  hunt  in  the  region  from 
Black  Cliffs  Bay  to  James  Ross  Bay.  The  parties 
were  to  use  the  regular  arctic  ration  of  tea,  pemmican, 
and  biscuit,  unless  they  found  game,  in  which  case  they 
were  to  use  fresh  meat  for  both  men  and  dogs.  In 
addition  to  the  hunting,  supplies  for  the  spring  sledge 
work  were  to  be  moved  from  one  cache  to  another  along 
the  coast. 

To  give  variety  to  the  work,  the  men  who  remained 
with  the  ship  during  one  moon  went  into  the  field  the 
next.  The  ship's  men,  engineers  and  sailors,  seldom 
went  on  hxmting  trips  but  remained  with  the  ship, 
attending  to  their  regular  duties  and  sometimes  help- 
ing with  the  work  of  equipment. 

I  had  in  my  cabin  a  good  arctic  library  —  absolutely 
complete  as  regards  the  work  of  later  years.     This 


180  THE   NORTH   POLE 

included  Abruzzi's  "On  the  Polar  Star  in  the  Arctic 
Sea,"  Nansen's  "Farthest  North,"  Nares'  "Voyage  to 
the  Polar  Sea,"  Markham's  two  volumes  on  arctic 
explorations,  the  narratives  of  Greely,  Hall,  Hayes, 
Kane,  Inglefield  —  in  fact,  all  the  stories  of  the  naviga- 
tors of  the  Smith  Sound  region,  as  well  as  those  who  have 
attempted  the  Pole  from  other  directions,  such  as  the 
Austrian  expedition  under  Payer  and  Weyprecht, 
Koldewey's  East  Greenland  expedition,  and  so  forth. 

Then,  in  antarctic  literature  I  had  Captain  Scott's 
two  magnificent  volumes,  "The  Voyage  of  the  Dis- 
covery," Borchgrevink's  "The  Southern  Cross  Expedi- 
tion to  the  Antarctic,"  Nordenskjold's  "Antarctica," 
the  "Antarctica"  of  Balch,  and  Carl  Pricker's  "The 
Antarctic  Regions,"  as  well  as  Hugh  Robert  Mills' 
"Siege  of  the  South  Pole." 

The  members  of  the  expedition  used  to  borrow  these 
books,  one  at  a  time,  and  I  think  that  before  the  winter 
was  over  they  all  knew  pretty  well  what  had  been  done 
by  other  men  in  this  field. 

Every  week  or  ten  days  throughout  the  winter  we 
had  to  remove  from  our  cabins  the  ice  caused  by  the 
condensation  of  the  moist  air  where  it  came  in  contact 
with  the  cold  outer  walls.  Behind  every  article  of  fur- 
niture near  the  outer  wall  the  ice  would  form,  and  we 
used  to  chop  it  out  from  under  our  bunks  by  the  pailful. 

The  books  were  always  placed  far  forward  on  the 
shelves,  because  if  a  book  were  pushed  back  it  would 
freeze  solid  to  the  wall.  Then,  if  a  warmer  day  came, 
or  a  fire  was  built  in  the  cabin,  the  ice  would  melt,  the 
water  would  run  down  and  the  leaves  of  the  book  would 
mold.' 


THE   ROOSEVELT'S   ESCAPE    181 

The  sailors  amused  themselves  after  the  manner  of 
sailors  everywhere,  playing  dominoes,  cards  and  check- 
ers, boxing  and  telling  stories.  They  used  to  play  at 
feats  of  strength,  such  as  finger-pulling,  with  the 
Eskimos.  One  of  the  men  had  an  accordion,  another 
a  banjo,  and  as  I  sat  working  in  my  cabin  I  used  often 
to  hear  them  singing  "Annie  Rooney,"  "McGinty," 
"The  Spanish  Cavalier,"  and  sometimes  "Home, 
Sweet  Home."  Nobody  seemed  to  be  bored.  Percy,  who 
had  special  charge  of  the  phonograph,  often  treated 
the  men  to  a  concert,  and  all  through  the  winter  I 
heard  nobody  complain  of  monotony  or  homesickness. 


CHAPTER  XX 

CHRISTMAS   ON   THE   ROOSEVELT 

rE  four  December  field  parties  returned  to  the 
ship  one  after  the  other.  Captain  Bartlett 
was  the  only  one  who  had  found  any  game, 
and  he  got  only  five  hares.  During  this  trip  the 
captain  had  an  experience  which  might  have  been 
decidedly  uncomfortable  for  him,  had  it  turned  out  a 
bit  less  fortunately.  He  was  up  in  the  Lake  Hazen 
region  with  his  Eskimos,  and  he  had  left  them  at  the 
igloo  while  he  looked  around  for  game.  He  had  just 
found  some  deer  tracks  when  the  moon  went  behind  a 
bank  of  clouds  and  the  night  became  suddenly  black. 

He  waited  an  hour  or  two  for  the  moon  to  come  out 
that  he  might  see  where  he  was,  and  meanwhile  the 
two  Eskimos,  thinking  he  was  lost,  broke  camp  and 
set  out  for  the  ship.  As  soon  as  there  was  light  enough, 
he  started  off  to  the  south  of  the  igloo,  and  after  a 
time  overtook  his  companions.  Had  he  gone  even  a 
little  way  to  the  north  he  would  not  have  met  them, 
and  would  have  had  to  walk  back  alone  to  the  ship, 
without  supplies,  a  distance  of  seventy  or  eighty  miles, 
with  a  storm  brewing. 

This  party  had  bad  weather  nearly  all  the  way  home. 
The  temperature  was  comparatively  mild,  only  ten  or 
fifteen  degrees  below  zero,  and  the  sky  was  overcast. 
The  captain  made  the  last  march  a  long  one,  notwith- 

182 


CHRISTMAS  183 

standing  the  darkness.  Of  course  he  could  not  always 
keep  the  trail.  Sometimes  he  would  be  walking  along 
over  snow  as  level  as  a  floor,  then  suddenly  the  level 
would  drop  ten  or  fifteen  feet,  and,  walking  right  on  in 
the  dark,  he  would  land  on  the  back  of  his  head  with 
such  force  that  he  saw  stars  which  do  not  appear  in 
any  scientific  celestial  map. 

At  one  point  in  the  journey  they  struck  going  so 
rough  that  it  was  impossible  to  push  ahead  and  drive 
the  dogs  without  light.  They  had  no  lantern,  but  Bart- 
lett  took  a  sugar  tin,  cut  holes  in  the  sides,  and  put 
a  candle  in  it.  With  this  makeshift  beacon  he  was  able 
to  keep  somewhere  near  the  trail.  But  there  was 
considerable  wind,  and  he  declared  that  he  used  enough 
matches  in  relighting  the  candle  on  that  march  to  keep 
an  Eskimo  family  cheerful  throughout  a  whole  winter. 

The  failure  of  these  parties  to  obtain  game  was  a 
serious  matter.  In  order  to  save  food  I  had  still  further 
to  reduce  the  number  of  dogs.  We  overhauled  them, 
and  fourteen  of  the  poorest  —  they  would  not  have 
survived  the  winter  —  were  killed  and  used  as  food 
for  the  others. 

I  am  often  asked  how  the  wild  herbivorous  animals, 
like  the  musk-ox  and  the  reindeer,  survive  the  winter 
in  that  snow-covered  land.  By  a  strange  paradox,  the 
wild  winds  that  rage  in  that  country  help  them  in 
their  struggle  for  existence,  for  the  wind  sweeps  the 
dried  grasses  and  scattered  creeping  willows  bare  of 
snow  over  great  stretches  of  land,  and  there  the  animals 
can  graze. 

December  22  marked  the  midnight  of  the  "Great 
Night,"  the  sun  from  that  day  starting  on  the  return 


184  THENORTHPOLE 

journey  north.  In  the  afternoon  all  the  Eskimos  were 
assembled  on  deck,  and  I  went  to  them  with  my  watch 
in  my  hand,  telling  them  that  the  sim  was  now  coming 
back.  Marvin  rang  the  ship's  bell.  Matt  Henson  fired 
three  shots,  and  Borup  set  off  some  flashlight  powder. 
Then  the  men,  women,  and  children  formed  in  line  and 
marched  into  the  after  deck  house  by  the  port  gangway, 
passing  the  galley,  where  each  one  received,  in  addition 
to  the  day's  rations,  a  quart  of  coffee,  with  sugar  and 
milk,  ship's  biscuit,  and  musk-ox  meat;  the  women  were 
also  given  candy  and  the  men  tobacco. 

After  the  celebration,  Pingahshoo,  a  boy  of  twelve 
or  thirteen,  who  helped  Percy  in  the  galley,  started  con- 
fidently south  over  the  hills  to  meet  the  sun.  After  a 
few  hours  he  returned  to  the  ship,  quite  crestfallen,  and 
Percy  had  to  explain  to  him  that  while  the  sun  was  really 
on  its  way  back,  it  would  not  get  to  us  for  nearly  three 
months  more. 

The  next  day  after  the  winter  solstice,  our  supply 
of  water  from  the  Cape  Sheridan  River  having  failed, 
Eskimos  were  sent  out  to  reconnoiter  the  ponds  of  the 
neighborhood.  The  English  expedition  on  the  Alert 
had  melted  ice  during  their  entire  winter,  and  on  the 
expedition  of  1905-06  we  had  been  obliged  to  melt  ice 
for  a  month  or  two;  but  this  year  the  Eskimos  sounded 
the  ponds,  and  about  fifteen  feet  of  water  was  found 
in  one .  a  mile  inland  from  the  Roosevelt.  Over  the 
hole  in  the  ice  they  built  a  snow  igloo  with  a  light 
wooden  trap-door,  so  as  to  keep  the  water  in  the  hole 
from  freezing  too  quickly.  The  water  was  brought  to 
the  ships  in  barrels  on  sledges  drawn  by  the  Eskimo 
dogs. 


CHRISTMAS  185 

As  Christmas  fell  in  the  dark  of  the  moon,  all  the 
members  of  the  expedition  were  on  the  ship,  and  we 
celebrated  with  a  special  dinner,  field  sports,  raffles, 
prizes,  and  so  on.  It  was  not  very  cold  that  day,  only 
minus  23°. 

In  the  morning  we  greeted  each  other  with  the 
"Merry  Christmas"  of  civilization.  At  breakfast  we 
all  had  letters  from  home  and  Christmas  presents, 
which  had  been  kept  to  be  opened  on  that  morning. 
MacMillan  was  master  of  ceremonies  and  arranged  the 
program  of  sports.  At  two  o'clock  there  were  races 
on  the  ice-foot.  A  seventy-five-yard  course  was  laid 
out,  and  the  ship's  lanterns,  about  fifty  of  them,  were 
arranged  in  two  parallel  rows,  twenty  feet  apart.  These 
lanterns  are  similar  to  a  railway  brakeman's  lantern, 
only  larger.  It  was  a  strange  sight  —  that  illuminated 
race-course  within  seven  and  a  half  degrees  of  the 
earth's  end. 

The  first  race  was  for  Eskimo  children,  the  second 
for  Eskimo  men,  the  third  for  Eskimo  matrons  with 
babies  in  their  hoods,  the  fourth  for  unencumbered 
women.  There  were  four  entries  for  the  matrons'  race, 
and  no  one  could  have  guessed  from  watching  them  that 
it  was  a  running  race.  They  came  along  four  abreast, 
dressed  in  furs,  their  eyes  rolling,  puffing  like  four 
excited  walruses,  the  babies  in  their  hoods  gazing 
with  wide  and  half-bewildered  eyes  at  the  glittering 
lanterns.  There  was  no  question  of  cruelty  to  children, 
as  the  mothers  were  not  moving  fast  enough  to  spill 
their  babies.  Then  there  were  races  for  the  ship's  men 
and  the  members  of  the  expedition,  and  a  tug  of  war 
between  the  men  aft  and  forward. 


186  THENORTHPOLE 

Nature  herself  participated  in  our  Christmas  cele- 
brations by  providing  an  aurora  of  considerable  bril- 
liancy. While  the  races  on  the  ice-foot  were  in  progress, 
the  northern  sky  was  filled  with  streamers  and  lances 
of  pale  white  light.  These  phenomena  of  the  northern 
sky  are  not,  contrary  to  the  common  belief,  especially 
frequent  in  these  most  northerly  latitudes.  It  is  always 
a  pity  to  destroy  a  pleasant  popular  illusion;  but  I  have 
seen  auroras  of  a  greater  beauty  in  Maine  than  I 
have  ever  seen  beyond  the  Arctic  Circle. 

Between  the  races  and  the  dinner  hour,  which  was  at 
four  o'clock,  I  gave  a  concert  on  the  seolian  in  my  cabin, 
choosing  the  merriest  music  in  the  rack.  Then  we 
separated  to  "dress  for  dinner."  This  ceremony  con- 
sisted in  putting  on  clean  flannel  shirts  and  neckties. 
The  doctor  was  even  so  ambitious  as  to  don  a  linen 
collar. 

Percy,  the  steward,  wore  a  chef's  cap  and  a  large 
white  apron  in  honor  of  the  occasion,  and  he  laid  the 
table  with  a  fine  linen  cloth  and  our  best  silver.  The 
wall  of  the  mess  room  was  decorated  with  the  American 
flag.  We  had  musk-ox  meat,  an  English  plum  pudding, 
sponge  cake  covered  with  chocolate,  and  at  each  plate 
was  a  package  containing  nuts,  cakes,  and  candies, 
with  a  card  attached:  "A  Merry  Christmas,  from  Mrs. 
Peary." 

After  dinner  came  the  dice-throwing  contests,  and 
the  wrestling  and  pulling  contests  in  the  forecastle. 
The  celebration  ended  with  a  graphophone  concert, 
given  by  Percy. 

But  perhaps  the  most  interesting  part  of  our  day  was 
the  distribution  of  prizes  to  the  winners  in  the  various 


CHRISTMAS  187 

contests.  In  order  to  afford  a  study  in  Eskimo  psychol- 
ogy, there  was  in  each  case  a  choice  between  prizes. 
Tookoomah,  for  instance,  who  won  in  the  women's 
race,  had  a  choice  among  three  prizes:  a  box  of  three 
cakes  of  scented  soap;  a  sewing  outfit,  containing 
a  paper  of  needles,  two  or  three  thimbles,  and  several 
spools  of  different-sized  thread;  and  a  round  cake 
covered  with  sugar  and  candy.  The  yoimg  woman  did 
not  hesitate.  She  had  one  eye,  perhaps,  on  the  sewing 
outfit,  but  both  hands  and  the  other  eye  were  directed 
toward  the  soap.  She  knew  what  it  was  meant  for. 
The  meaning  of  cleanliness  had  dawned  upon  her  —  a 
sudden  ambition  to  be  attractive. 

The  last  time  that  all  the  members  of  the  expedition 
ate  together  was  at  the  four  o'clock  dinner  on  December 
29,  for  that  evening  Marvin,  the  captain,  and  their 
parties  started  for  the  Greenland  coast;  and  when  we 
met  together  at  the  ship  after  my  return  from  the  Pole 
there  was  one  who  was  not  with  us  —  one  who  would 
never  again  be  with  us. 

Ross  Marvin  was,  next  to  Captain  Bartlett,  the 
most  valuable  man  in  the  party.  Whenever  the  captain 
was  not  in  the  field,  Marvin  took  command  of  the  work, 
and  on  him  devolved  the  sometimes  onerous,  sometimes 
amusing  labor  of  breaking  in  the  new  members.  During 
the  latter  part  of  the  former  expedition  in  the  Roosevelt, 
Marvin  had  grasped  more  fully  than  any  other  man  the 
underlying,  fundamental  principles  of  the  work. 

He  and  I  together  had  planned  the  details  of  the 
new  method  of  advance  and  relay  parties.  This 
method,  given  a  fixed  surface  over  which  to  travel, 
could   be   mathematically   demonstrated,   and   it  has 


188  THENORTHPOLE 

proved  to  be  the  most  effective  way  to  carry  on  an 
arctic  sledge  journey. 

The  party  that  started  for  the  Greenland  coast, 
across  the  ice  of  Robeson  Channel,  on  the  evening  of 
December  29,  consisted  of  Marvin,  the  captain,  nine 
Eskimos,  and  fifty-four  dogs.  They  were  all  to  go 
south  along  the  coast  to  Cape  Union,  then  cross  the 
channel  to  Cape  Brevoort,  Marvin,  with  his  men  and 
supporting  parties,  going  north  to  Cape  Bryant  for  a 
month  of  tidal  observations,  the  captain  and  his  men 
going  south  along  the  ice  of  Newman  Bay  and  on  to  the 
Polaris  Promontory  to  hunt. 

The  following  day.  Dr.  Goodsell  and  Borup,  each 
with  his  party  of  Eskimos  and  dogs,  started  by  way  of 
Cape  Belknap,  the  doctor  to  hunt  in  Clements  Markham 
Inlet,  Borup  to  hunt  in  the  region  of  the  first  glacier 
north  of  Lake  Hazen.  No  such  extensive  field  work 
had  ever  before  been  attempted  by  any  arctic  expedi- 
tion, the  radius  of  territory  covered  being  about  ninety 
miles  in  all  directions  from  our  winter  quarters. 

While  distributing  material  for  the  spring  sewing 
among  the  Eskimo  women  in  the  forward  deck  house 
and  in  the  box  houses  and  snow  igloos  on  shore,  I 
learned  that  some  of  the  Eskimo  men  felt  somewhat 
shaky  about  going  north  again  on  the  ice  of  the  polar 
sea.  They  had  not  forgotten  the  narrow  escape  we 
had  had  in  recrossing  the  "big  lead"  on  the  return 
journey  from  the  "farthest  north"  of  1906.  Though  I 
felt  confident  of  my  ability  to  handle  them  when  the 
time  came,  still,  I  realized  that  we  might  have  trouble 
with  them  yet.  But  I  would  not  permit  myself  to 
worry  about  the  outcome. 


CHRISTMAS  189 

The  first  of  the  January  hunting  parties,  Dr.  Good- 
sell's,  came  in  on  the  11th.  They  had  had  no  luck, 
though  they  had  seen  fresh  tracks  of  musk-oxen. 
Borup  came  in  the  next  morning  with  eighty-three 
hares,  and  an  interesting  story.  They  were  right  up 
against  the  glacier  when  they  came  across  a  whole 
colony  of  the  little  white  arctic  animals.  He  said 
there  must  have  been  nearly  a  hundred  of  them.  The 
arctic  hares  are  not  wild;  they  will  come  so  near  to  the 
hunter  that  he  can  almost  grasp  them  with  his  hand. 
They  have  not  learned  the  fear  of  man,  because  in  their 
wilds  man  is  practically  unknown.  Borup  and  the 
Eskimos  surroxmded  the  hares,  until  finally  they  got  so 
near  to  them  that  instead  of  using  any  more  ammuni- 
tion they  knocked  the  creatures  over  the  heads  with 
the  butts  of  their  rifles. 

One  day,  during  this  hunting  trip,  Borup  and  his 
Eskimos  became  confused  and  were  unable  to  find  their 
igloo  for  twenty-four  hours.  The  saw-knives,  essential 
in  constructing  a  snow  igloo,  had  been  left  behind,  and 
none  of  the  men  had  even  an  ordinary  knife  which  might 
have  been  used  as  a  substitute.  There  was'  a  gale 
of  wind,  the  moon  was  obscured,  the  air  was  full  of 
whirling  snow,  and  it  was  very  cold.  They  spent 
most  of  the  time  walking  to  and  fro  to  keep  warm. 
At  last,  when  they  were  exhausted,  they  turned  the 
sledges  on  their  sides,  the  Eskimos  worked  out  with 
their  feet  snow  blocks  which  reinforced  the  shelter, 
and  they  were  able  to  snatch  a  little  sleep.  When  the 
weather  cleared,  they  found  themselves  half  a  mile 
from  their  igloo. 

The  day  following  Borup's  return,  the  captain  came 


190  THENORTHPOLE 

in  with  his  men  and  Marvin's  supporting  party  of  four. 
We  were  just  beginning  to  be  worried  about  them,  as  the 
ice  of  Robeson  Channel  in  the  dark  of  winter  is  not  the 
safest  road  for  a  sledge  party.  The  captain  reported 
that  they  had  been  only  six  hours  in  crossing  the  chan- 
nel; but,  though  he  had  reconnoitered  the  whole  plain 
of  the  Polaris  Promontory,  he  had  seen  no  musk-oxen. 

By  the  end  of  January  we  could  see  a  faint  redness 
in  the  south  at  noon,  and  the  twilight  was  increasing. 
The  last  moon  of  the  winter  was  now  circling  in  the 
sky,  and  I  wrote  in  my  diary:  "Thank  Heaven,  no 
more  moons!"  No  matter  how  many  dark  winters  a 
man  may  have  gone  through  in  the  Arctic,  the  longing 
for  the  sun  does  not  grow  less  intense. 

In  the  February  moon  Bartlett  went  to  Cape  Hecla, 
Goodsell  moved  more  supplies  from  Hecla  to  Cape 
Colan,  and  Borup  went  to  Markham  Inlet  on  another 
hunting  trip.  Before  leaving,  the  doctor  completed  a 
record  of  the  approximate  mean  temperatures  for  the 
season,  which  showed  that  every  month  except  October 
had  been  colder  than  three  years  before.  For  Decem- 
ber the  mean  was  eight  degrees  lower. 

Marvin  was  still  at  Cape  Bryant,  but  the  last  of  the 
February  parties  came  in  on  the  9th,  and  from  that  time 
on  we  were  all  busy  preparing  for  the  great  and  last 
journey.  On  Sunday  night,  February  14,  I  had  a 
brief  talk  with  the  Eskimo  men,  telling  them  what  we 
proposed  to  do,  what  was  expected  of  them,  and  what 
each  man  who  went  to  the  farthest  point  with  me  would 
get  when  he  returned :  boat,  tent,  Winchester  repeater, 
shotgun,  ammunition,  box  of  tobacco,  pipes,  cartridges, 
numerous  knives,  hatchets,  ^t  cetera. 


CHRISTMAS  191 

Their  fears  of  the  "big  lead"  took  flight  at  the 
prospect  of  what  to  them  was  untold  riches;  and  when 
it  came  to  the  point  of  making  up  my  sledge  parties, 
only  one  Eskimo,  Panikpah,  would  admit  any  fears. 
They  had  seen  me  return  so  many  times  that  they 
were  ready  to  take  their  chances  with  me  this  one 
time  more. 

Bartlett  left  the  ship  on  Monday,  February  15,  with 
instructions  to  go  straight  through  to  Cape  Coliunbia, 
then  put  in  two  or  three  days  hunting  for  musk-oxen  in 
the  neighborhood.  The  three  divisions  following  Bart- 
lett had  instructions  to  go  to  Cape  Columbia  with  their 
loads;  then  return  to  Cape  Colan,  where  there  was  a 
cache,  and  take  full  loads  from  there  to  Cape  Columbia. 
Goodsell's  division  started  on  Tuesday,  on  Wednesday 
it  was  stormy,  and  MacMillan  and  Henson  got  away 
on  Thursday.  They  were  all  to  meet  me  at  Cape 
Columbia  on  the  last  day  of  February. 

Marvin  and  his  party  had  come  in  from  Cape 
Bryant  about  six  o'clock  on  Wednesday  night.  They 
were  all  well.  Borup's  division  left  the  ship  on  Friday, 
Marvin's  division  got  away  on  Sunday,  the  21st,  and  I 
was  left  alone  on  the  ship  for  one  day. 

That  last  day  was  one  of  perfect  quiet  and  rest, 
free  from  interruption.  The  morning  I  devoted  to 
going  over  carefully  the  details  of  the  work  already 
done,  to  see  that  no  slenderest  necessary  thread  had 
been  overlooked,  and  to  considering  again,  point  by 
point,  the  details  of  the  coming  journey. 

When  I  had  satisfied  myself  (as  I  had  not  been  able 
to  do  during  the  bustle  and  constant  interruptions  of 
the  last  two  weeks)  that  everything  was  in  its  place  and 


192  THENORTHPOLE 

every  possible  contingency  provided  for,  I  had  a  few 
hours  in  which  to  look  the  situation  squarely  in  the 
face,  and  to  think  of  those  other  times,  when,  as  now,  I 
was  on  the  eve  of  departure  into  the  void  and  unknown 
North. 

When  at  last  I  turned  in  for  a  few  hours'  sleep  before 
the  morning  start,  it  was  with  the  consciousness  that  so 
far  as  my  knowledge  and  ability  went,  everything  had 
been  done,  and  that  every  member  of  the  party,  as  well 
as  myself,  would  put  into  his  efforts  all  there  was 
in  him  of  will  and  sinew  and  vitality.  This  being 
settled,  the  outcome  rested  with  the  elements  —  the 
vagaries  of  the  arctic  pack,  and  the  quality  and  amount 
of  our  own  physical  and  mental  stamina. 

This  was  my  final  chance  to  realize  the  one  dream 
of  my  life.  The  morning  start  would  be  the  drawing 
of  the  string  to  launch  the  last  arrow  in  my  quiver. 


CRANE  CITY,   CAPE  COLUMBIA,   AT  THE  TIME  OF  DEPAKTUKE 

Jlarch  1st.  1909 


FACE   OF  THE   LAND   ICE,    "gLACIAL  FRINGE,"    OFF  CAPE   COLUMBIA 


riXNACLE   NEAR   THE   SHORE 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ARCTIC   ICE   SLEDGING   AS   IT   REALLY   IS 

PERHAPS  it  will  assist  the  reader  to  form  a  more 
vivid  picture  of  the  sort  of  work  that  now  lay- 
before  the  expedition  and  which  the  expedition 
eventually  performed,  if  an  effort  is  made  to  make  him 
understand  exactly  what  it  means  to  travel  nearly  a 
thousand  miles  with  dog  sledges  over  the  ice  of  the 
polar  pack.  In  that  belief,  I  shall  at  this  point 
endeavor  to  describe  as  briefly  as  is  consistent  with  clear- 
ness the  conditions  that  confronted  us  and  the  means 
and  methods  by  which  those  conditions  were  met. 

Between  the  winter  quarters  of  the  Roosevelt  at 
Cape  Sheridan,  and  Cape  Columbia,  the  most  northerly 
point  on  the  north  coast  of  Grant  Land,  which  I  had 
chosen  as  the  point  of  departure  for  the  ice  journey,  lay 
ninety  miles  in  a  northwesterly  direction  along  the  ice- 
foot and  across  the  land,  which  we  must  traverse  before 
plunging  onto  the  trackless  ice  fields  of  the  Arctic 
Ocean. 

From  Cape  Columbia  we  were  to  go  straight  north 
over  the  ice  of  the  Polar  Sea,  —  four  hundred  and 
thirteen  geographical  miles.  Many  persons  whose 
memories  go  back  to  the  smooth  skating  ponds  of  their 
childhood,  picture  the  Arctic  Ocean  as  a  gigantic  skating 
pond  with  a  level  floor  over  which  the  dogs  drag  us 
merrily  —  we  sitting  comfortably  upon  the  sledges  with 

193 


194  THENORTHPOLE 

hot  bricks  to  keep  our  toes  and  fingers  warm.  Such 
ideas  are  distinctly  diflferent  from  the  truth,  as  will 
appear. 

There  is  no  land  between  Cape  Columbia  and  the 
North  Pole  and  no  smooth  and  very  little  level  ice. 

For  a  few  miles  only  after  leaving  the  land  we  had 
level  going,  as  for  those  few  miles  we  were  on  the 
"glacial  fringe,"  This  fringe,  which  fills  all  the  bays 
and  extends  across  the  whole  width  of  North  Grant 
Land,  is  really  an  exaggerated  ice-foot;  in  some  places 
it  is  miles  in  width.  While  the  outer  edge  in  places  is 
afloat  and  rises  and  falls  with  the  movement  of  the 
tides,  it  never  moves  as  a  body,  except  where  great 
fields  of  ice  break  off  from  it  and  float  away  upon  the 
waters  of  the  Arctic  Ocean. 

Beyond  the  glacial  fringe  is  the  indescribable  surface 
of  the  shore  lead,  or  tidal  crack  —  that  zone  of  unceasing 
conflict  between  the  heavy  floating  ice  and  the  station- 
ary glacial  fringe.  This  shore  lead  is  constantly  open- 
ing and  shutting;  opening  when  there  are  offshore 
winds,  or  spring  ebb-tides,  crushing  shut  when  there  are 
northerly  winds  or  spring  flood-tides.  Here  the  ice  is 
smashed  into  fragments  of  all  sizes  and  piled  up  into 
great  pressure  ridges  parallel  with  the  shore. 

The  ice  is  smashed  into  these  pressure  ridges  by  the 
sheer  and  unimaginable  force  with  which  the  floes  are 
driven  against  the  edge  of  the  glacial  fringe,  just  as 
farther  out  the  pressure  ridges  are  caused  by  the  force 
with  which  the  great  floes  themselves  are  crushed  and 
smashed  together  by  the  force  of  the  wind  and  the  tides. 

These  pressure  ridges  may  be  anywhere  from  a  few 
feet  to  a  few  rods  in  height;  they  may  be  anywhere  from 


ARCTIC   ICE   SLEDGING        195 

a  few  rods  to  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  width;  the  individual 
masses  of  ice  of  which  they  are  composed  may  vary, 
respectively,  from  the  size  of  a  billiard  ball  to  the  size 
of  a  small  house. 

Going  over  these  pressure  ridges  one  must  pick  his 
trail  as  best  he  can,  often  hacking  his  way  with  pick- 
axes, encouraging  the  dogs  by  whip  and  voice  to  follow 
the  leader,  lifting  the  five-hundred-pound  loaded  sledges 
over  hummocks  and  up  acclivities  whose  difficulties 
sometimes  seem  likely  to  tear  the  muscles  from  one's 
shoulder-blades. 

Between  the  pressure  ridges  are  the  old  floes,  more 
or  less  level.  These  floes,  contrary  to  wide-spread  and 
erroneous  ideas,  are  not  formed  by  direct  freezing  of  the 
water  of  the  Arctic  Ocean.  They  are  made  up  of  great 
sheets  of  ice  broken  off  from  the  glacial  fringe  of  Grant 
Land  and  Greenland,  and  regions  to  the  westward, 
which  have  drifted  out  into  the  polar  sea.  These 
fields  of  ice  are  anywhere  from  less  than  twenty  to  more 
than  one  hundred  feet  in  thickness,  and  they  are  of  all 
shapes  and  sizes.  As  a  result  of  the  constant  movement 
of  the  ice  during  the  brief  summer,  when  great  fields 
are  detached  from  the  glaciers  and  are  driven  hither 
and  thither  under  the  impulse  of  the  wind  and  the 
tides  —  impinging  against  one  another,  splitting  in  two 
from  the  violence  of  contact  with  other  large  fields, 
crushing  up  the  thinner  ice  between  them,  having  their 
edges  shattered  and  piled  up  into  pressure  ridges  —  the 
surface  of  the  polar  sea  during  the  winter  may  be  one 
of  almost  unimaginable  unevenness  and  roughness. 

At  least  nine-tenths  of  the  surface  of  the  polar  sea 
between  Cape  Columbia  and  the  Pole  is  made  up  of 


196  THENORTHPOLE 

these  floes.  The  other  one-tenth,  the  ice  between  the 
floes,  is  formed  by  the  direct  freezing  of  the  sea  water 
each  autumn  and  winter.  This  ice  never  exceeds  eight 
or  ten  feet  in  thickness. 

The  weather  conditions  of  the  fall  determine  to 
a  great  extent  the  character  of  the  ice  surface  of  the 
polar  sea  during  the  following  winter.  If  there  have 
been  continuous  shoreward  winds  at  the  time  when  the 
increasing  cold  was  gradually  cementing  the  ice  masses 
together,  then  the  heavier  ice  will  have  been  forced 
toward  the  shore;  and  the  edges  of  the  ice-fields  farther 
out,  where  they  come  in  contact,  will  have  piled  up  into 
a  series  of  pressure  ridges,  one  beyond  the  other,  which 
any  one  traveling  northward  from  the  land  must  go 
over,  as  one  would  go  over  a  series  of  hills. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  there  has  been  little  wind  in 
the  fall,  when  the  surface  of  the  polar  sea  was  becoming 
cemented  and  frozen  over,  many  of  these  great  floes 
will  have  been  separated  from  other  floes  of  a  like  size 
and  character,  and  there  may  be  stretches  of  com- 
paratively smooth,  young,  or  new,  ice  between  them. 
If,  after  the  winter  has  set  in,  there  should  still  be  violent 
winds,  much  of  this  thinner  ice  may  be  crushed  up  by 
the  movement  of  the  heavier  floes;  but  if  the  winter 
remains  calm,  this  smoother  ice  may  continue  until  the 
general  breaking  up  in  the  following  summer. 

But  the  pressure  ridges  above  described  are  not  the 
worst  feature  of  the  arctic  ice.  Far  more  troublesome 
and  dangerous  are  the  "leads"  (the  whalers'  term  for 
lanes  of  open  water),  which  are  caused  by  the  movement 
of  the  ice  under  the  pressure  of  the  wind  and  tides. 
These  are  the  ever-present  nightmare  of  the  traveler 


ARCTIC   ICE   SLEDGING        197 

over  the  frozen  surface  of  the  polar  ocean  —  on  the 
upward  journey  for  fear  that  they  may  prevent  further 
advance;  on  the  return  journey  for  fear  they  may  cut 
him  off  from  the  land  and  life,  leaving  him  to  wander 
about  and  starve  to  death  on  the  northern  side.  Their 
occurrence  or  non-occurrence  is  a  thing  impossible  to 
prophesy  or  calculate.  They  open  without  warning 
immediately  ahead  of  the  traveler,  following  no  appar- 
ent rule  or  law  of  action.  They  are  the  unknown 
quantity  of  the  polar  equation. 

Sometimes  these  leads  are  mere  cracks  running 
through  old  floes  in  nearly  a  straight  line.  Sometimes 
they  are  zigzag  lanes  of  water  just  wide  enough  to  be 
impossible  to  cross.  Sometimes  they  are  rivers  of 
open  water  from  half  a  mile  to  two  miles  in  width, 
stretching  east  and  west  farther  than  the  eye  can  see. 

There  are  various  ways  of  crossing  the  leads.  One 
can  go  to  the  right  or  the  left,  with  the  idea  of  finding 
some  place  where  the  opposite  edges  of  the  ice  are  near 
enough  together  so  that  our  long  sledges  can  be  bridged 
across.  Or,  if  there  are  indications  that  the  lead  is 
closing,  the  traveler  can  wait  until  the  ice  comes  quite 
together.  If  it  is  very  cold,  one  may  wait  until  the 
ice  has  formed  thick  enough  to  bear  the  loaded  sledges 
going  at  full  speed.  Or,  one  may  search  for  a  cake  of 
ice,  or  hack  out  a  cake  with  pickaxes,  which  can  be 
used  as  a  ferry-boat  on  which  to  transport  the  sledges 
and  teams  across. 

But  all  these  means  go  for  naught  when  the  "big 
lead,"  which  marks  the  edge  of  the  continental  shelf 
where  it  dips  down  into  the  Arctic  Ocean,  is  in  one  of 
its   tantrums,   opening   just  wide  enough  to  keep   a 


198  THENORTHPOLE 

continual  zone  of  open  water  or  impracticable  young 
ice  in  the  center,  as  occurred  on  our  upward  journey 
of  1906  and  the  never-to-be-forgotten  return  journey 
of  that  expedition,  when  this  lead  nearly  cut  us  off 
forever  from  life  itself. 

A  lead  might  have  opened  right  through  our  camp, 
or  through  one  of  the  snow  igloos,  when  we  were  sleep- 
ing on  the  surface  of  the  polar  sea.     Only  —  it  didn't. 

Should  the  ice  open  across  the  bed  platform  of  an 
igloo,  and  precipitate  its  inhabitants  into  the  icy  water 
below,  they  would  not  readily  drown,  because  of  the 
buoyancy  of  the  air  inside  their  fur  clothing.  A  man 
dropping  into  the  water  in  this  way  might  be  able  to 
scramble  onto  the  ice  and  save  himself;  but  with  the 
thermometer  at  50°  below  zero  it  would  not  be  a 
pleasant  contingency. 

This  is  the  reason  why  I  have  never  used  a  sleeping- 
bag  when  out  on  the  polar  ice.  I  prefer  to  have  my 
legs  and  arms  free,  and  to  be  ready  for  any  emergency 
at  a  moment's  notice.  I  never  go  to  sleep  when  out 
on  the  sea  ice  without  my  mittens  on,  and  if  I  pull  my 
arms  inside  my  sleeves  I  pull  my  mittens  in  too,  so  as 
to  be  ready  for  instant  action.  What  chance  would  a 
man  in  a  sleeping-bag  have,  should  he  suddenly  wake 
to  find  himself  in  the  water.?* 

The  difficulties  and  hardships  of  a  journey  to  the 
North  Pole  are  too  complex  to  be  summed  up  in  a 
paragraph.  But,  briefly  stated,  the  worst  of  them  are: 
the  ragged  and  mountainous  ice  over  which  the  traveler 
must  journey  with  his  heavily  loaded  sledges;  the  often 
terrific  wind,  having  the  impact  of  a  wall  of  water, 
which  he  must  march  against  at  times;  the  open  leads 


ARCTIC   ICE   SLEDGING        199 

already  described,  which  he  must  cross  and  recross, 
somehow;  the  intense  cold,  sometimes  as  low  as  60° 
below  zero,  through  which  he  must  —  by  fur  clothing 
and  constant  activity  —  keep  his  flesh  from  freezing; 
the  difficulty  of  dragging  out  and  back  over  the  ragged 
and  "lead"  interrupted  trail  enough  pemmican,  biscuit, 
tea,  condensed  milk,  and  liquid  fuel  to  keep  sufficient 
strength  in  his  body  for  traveling.  It  was  so  cold  much 
of  the  time  on  this  last  journey  that  the  brandy  was 
frozen  solid,  the  petroleum  was  white  and  viscid,  and  the 
dogs  could  hardly  be  seen  for  the  steam  of  their  breath. 
The  minor  discomfort  of  building  every  night  our  narrow 
and  uncomfortable  snow  houses,  and  the  cold  bed  plat- 
form of  that  igloo  on  which  we  must  snatch  such  hours 
of  rest  as  the  exigencies  of  our  desperate  enterprise  per- 
mitted us,  seem  hardly  worth  mentioning  in  comparison 
with  the  difficulties  of  the  main  proposition  itself. 

At  times  one  may  be  obliged  to  march  all  day  long 
facing  a  blinding  snowstorm  with  the  bitter  wind  search- 
ing every  opening  in  the  clothing.  Those  among  my 
readers  who  have  ever  been  obliged  to  walk  for  even  an 
hour  against  a  blizzard,  with  the  temperature  ten  or 
twenty  degrees  above  zero,  probably  have  keen  memories 
of  the  experience.  Probably  they  also  remember  how 
welcome  was  the  warm  fireside  of  home  at  the  end  of 
their  journey.  But  let  them  imagine  tramping  through 
such  a  storm  all  day  long,  over  jagged  and  uneven  ice, 
with  the  temperature  between  fifteen  and  thirty  degrees 
below  zero,  and  no  shelter  to  look  forward  to  at  the  end  of 
the^ay's  march  excepting  a  narrow  and  cold  snow  house 
which  they  would  themselves  be  obliged  to  build  in  that 
very  storm  before  they  could  eat  or  rest. 


200  THENORTHPOLE 

I  am  often  asked  if  we  were  hungry  on  that  journey. 
I  hardly  know  whether  we  were  hungry  or  not. 
Morning  and  night  we  had  pemmican,  biscuit  and  tea, 
and  the  pioneer  or  leading  party  had  tea  and  lunch  in 
the  middle  of  the  day's  march.  Had  we  eaten  more,  our 
food  supply  would  have  fallen  short.  I  myself  dropped 
twenty -five  pounds  of  flesh  between  my  departure  from 
the  ship  and  my  return  to  it. 

But  fortitude  and  endurance  alone  are  not  enough 
in  themselves  to  carry  a  man  to  the  North  Pole.  Only 
with  years  of  experience  in  traveling  in  those  regions, 
only  with  the  aid  of  a  large  party,  also  experienced  in 
that  character  of  work,  only  with  the  knowledge  of 
arctic  detail  and  the  equipment  necessary  to  prepare 
himself  and  his  party  for  any  and  every  emergency, 
is  it  possible  for  a  man  to  reach  that  long  sought  goal 
and  return. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

ESSENTIALS   THAT   BROUGHT    SUCCESS 

SOMETHING  has  already  been  said  regarding  the 
fact  that  our  journey  to  the  North  Pole  was  no 
haphazard,  hit  or  miss  "dash."  It  was  not 
really  a  "dash"  at  all.  Perhaps  it  may  properly  be 
described  as  a  "drive"  —  in  the  sense  that  when  the 
sledge  journey  got  under  way  we  pressed  forward  with 
a  speed  at  times  almost  breathless.  But  nothing  was 
done  impulsively.  Everything  was  done  in  accordance 
with  a  scheme  long  contemplated  and  plotted  out  in 
advance  with  every  possible  care. 

The  source  of  our  success  was  a  carefully  planned 
system,  mathematically  demonstrated.  Everything 
that  could  be  controlled  was  controlled,  and  the  indeter- 
minate factors  of  storms,  open  leads  and  accidents  to 
men,  dogs  and  sledges,  were  taken  into  consideration 
in  the  percentage  of  probabilities  and  provided  for  as 
far  as  possible.  Sledges  would  break  and  dogs  would 
fall  by  the  way,  of  course;  but  we  could  generally  make 
one  sledge  out  of  two  broken  ones,  and  the  gradual 
depletion  of  the  dogs  was  involved  in  my  calculations. 
The  so-called  "Peary  system"  is  too  complex 
to  be  covered  in  a  paragraph,  and  involves  too  many 
technical  details  to  be  outlined  fully  in  any  popular 
narrative.  But  the  main  points  of  it  are  about  as 
follows: 

201 


202  THENORTHPOLE 

To  drive  a  ship  through  the  ice  to  the  farthest  pos- 
sible northern  land  base  from  which  she  can  be  driven 
back  again  the  following  year. 

To  do  enough  hunting  during  the  fall  and  winter  to 
keep  the  party  healthily  supplied  with  fresh  meat. 

To  have  dogs  enough  to  allow  for  the  loss  of  sijcty 
per  cent,  of  them  by  death  or  otherwise. 

To  have  the  confidence  of  a  large  number  of  Eskimos, 
earned  by  square  dealing  and  generous  gifts  in  the  past, 
so  that  they  will  follow  the  leader  to  any  point  he 
may  specify. 

To  have  an  intelligent  and  willing  body  of  civilized 
assistants  to  lead  the  various  divisions  of  Eskimos  — 
men  whose  authority  the  Eskimos  will  accept  when 
delegated  by  the  leader. 

To  transport  beforehand  to  the  point  where  the 
expedition  leaves  the  land  for  the  sledge  journey,  suf- 
ficient food,  fuel,  clothing,  stoves  (oil  or  alcohol)  and 
other  mechanical  equipment  to  get  the  main  party  to 
the  Pole  and  back  and  the  various  divisions  to  their 
farthest  north  and  back. 

To  have  an  ample  supply  of  the  best  kind  of 
sledges. 

To  have  a  suflBcient  number  of  divisions,  or  relay 
parties,  each  under  the  leadership  of  a  competent 
assistant,  to  send  back  at  appropriate  and  carefully 
calculated  stages  along  the  upward  journey. 

To  have  every  item  of  equipment  of  the  quality  best 
suited  to  the  purpose,  thoroughly  tested,  and  of  the 
lightest  possible  weight. 

To  know,  by  long  experience,  the  best  way  to  cross 
wide  leads  of  open  water. 


ESSENTIALS    OF    SUCCESS     203 

To  return  by  the  same  route  followed  on  the  upward 
march,  using  the  beaten  trail  and  the  already  con- 
structed igloos  to  save  the  time  and  strength  that  would 
have  been  expended  in  constructing  new  igloos  and  in 
trail-breaking. 

To  know  exactly  to  what  extent  each  man  and  dog 
may  be  worked  without  injury. 

To  know  the  physical  and  mental  capabilities  of 
every  assistant  and  Eskimo. 

Last,  but  not  least,  to  have  the  absolute  confidence 
of  every  member  of  the  party,  white,  black,  or  brown,  so 
that  every  order  of  the  leader  will  be  implicitly  obeyed. 

Bartlett's  division  was  to  pioneer  the  road,  and  keep 
one  day  ahead  of  the  main  party.  It  was  my  plan  at 
this  time  to  keep  the  pioneer  party  close  to  the  main 
party,  and  thus  prevent  the  possibility  of  its  being  cut 
off  from  the  main  party  by  a  rapidly  forming  lead,  with 
insufficient  supplies  either  for  a  further  advance  or  for 
regaining  the  main  division.  Bartlett's  pioneer  division 
comprised  himself  and  three  Eskimos,  Pooadloonah, 
"Harrigan,"  and  Ooqueah,  with  one  sledge  and  team 
of  dogs,  carrying  their  own  gear  and  five  days'  supplies 
for  the  division. 

Borup's  division  comprised  himself  and  three  Eski- 
mos, Keshungwah,  Seegloo,  and  Karko,  with  four 
sledges  and  dog  teams  carrying  nearly  the  standard 
loads.  His  division  was  to  act  as  an  advance  supporting 
party,  and  was  to  accompany  Bartlett  for  three  marches 
and  then  return  to  Cape  Columbia  in  one  march  with 
empty  sledges.  He  was  to  deposit  his  loads  and  one 
sledge  at  the  place  where  he  left  Bartlett,  making  a 
cache  on  the  line  of  march;  then  hurry  back  to  Colum- 


204  THENORTHPOLE 

bia,  re-load,  and  overtake  the  main  party,  which  would 
leave  the  land  one  day  after  himself  and  Bartlett. 

By  this  arrangement,  if  there  were  no  delays,  the 
main  party  would  begin  its  third  march  at  the  same  time 
when  Borup  started  back;  the  evening  of  the  third  day 
would  find  the  main  party  at  Borup's  cache,  and  Borup 
at  Cape  Columbia;  the  next  morning,  when  the  main 
party  began  its  fourth  march,  Borup  would  be 
leaving  Cape  Columbia  three  marches  behind,  which 
difference,  with  a  well-traveled  trail  to  follow,  he  could 
probably  eliminate  in  three  marches. 

It  chanced  that  this  sending  back  of  Borup  for 
additional  loads  to  overtake  the  main  party,  with 
the  later  complications  which  grew  out  of  it,  through 
the  opening  of  leads  between  him  and  the  main  party, 
was  a  link  in  the  chain  of  delays  which  might  have 
caused  serious  trouble,  as  will  be  hereafter  explained. 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  understand  this 
journey  over  the  ice  of  the  polar  sea,  it  is  necessary 
that  the  theory  and  practise  of  both  pioneer  and  sup- 
porting parties  should  be  fully  understood.  Without 
this  system,  as  has  been  amply  demonstrated  by  the 
experience  of  previous  expeditions,  it  would  be  a  physi- 
cal impossibility  for  any  man  to  reach  the  North  Pole, 
and  return.  The  use  of  relay  parties  in  arctic  work  is, 
of  course,  not  new,  though  the  idea  was  carried  further 
in  the  last  expedition  of  the  Peary  Arctic  Club  than  ever 
before;  but  the  pioneer  party  is  original  with  my  expedi- 
tions and  for  that  reason  it  is  perhaps  worth  while  to 
describe  it  in  detail. 

The  pioneer  party  was  one  unit  division,  made  up  of 
four  of  the  most  active  and  experienced  men  of  the 


ESSENTIALS    OF    SUCCESS      205 

expedition,  with  sledges  lightly  loaded  with  five  or  six 
days'  provisions,  drawn  by  the  best  dog  teams  of  the 
entire  pack.  When  we  started  from  Cape  Columbia, 
this  pioneer  party,  headed  by  Bartlett,went  out  twenty- 
four  hours  in  advance  of  the  main  party.  Later  on, 
when  we  reached  the  time  of  continuous  daylight  and 
sunlight  through  the  twenty-four  hours,  the  pioneer 
party  was  but  twelve  hours  in  advance  of  the  main 
party. 

The  duty  of  this  pioneer  party  was  to  make  a  march 
in  every  twenty-four  hours  in  spite  of  every  obstacle  — 
excepting,  of  course,  some  impassable  lead.  Whether 
there  was  a  snowstorm  or  violent  winds  to  be  faced,  or 
mountainous  pressure  ridges  were  to  be  climbed  over,  the 
march  of  the  pioneer  party  must  be  made;  for  past 
experience  had  proved  that  whatever  distance  was 
covered  by  the  advance  party  with  its  light  sledges 
could  be  covered  in  less  time  by  the  main  party  even 
with  heavily  loaded  sledges,  because  the  main  party, 
having  the  trail  to  follow,  was  not  obliged  to  waste  time 
in  reconnoitering.  In  other  words,  the  pioneer  party, 
was  the  pace-maker  of  the  expedition,  and  whatever 
distance  it  made  was  the  measure  of  accomplishment 
for  the  main  party.  The  leader  of  the  pioneer  party, 
in  the  first  instance  Bartlett,  would  start  out  ahead  of 
his  division,  usually  on  snowshoes;  then  the  light 
sledges  of  the  party  would  follow  him.  Thus  the  leader 
of  the  pioneer  division  was  pioneering  ahead  of  his  own 
party,  and  that  whole  division  was  pioneering  ahead 
of  the  main  party. 

It  is  necessary  that  the  arduous  work  of  trail-break- 
ing for  the  first  two-thirds  of  the  distance  over  the 


206  THENORTHPOLE 

rougher  ice  nearer  the  land  should  be  done  by  one 
division  after  another,  in  succession,  in  order  to  save 
the  strength  of  the  main  party  for  their  final  drive. 
One  great  advantage  which  I  had  on  this  expedition 
was  that,  owing  to  the  size  of  my  party,  whenever  the 
men  in  this  pioneer  division  became  exhausted  with 
their  arduous  labor  and  lack  of  sleep,  I  could  withdraw 
them  into  the  main  party,  and  send  out  another  division 
to  take  their  place. 

Supporting  parties  are  essential  to  success  because, 
a  single  party,  comprising  either  a  small  or  a  large 
number  of  men  and  dogs,  could  not  possibly  drag  (in 
gradually  lessening  quantities)  all  the  way  to  the  Pole 
and  back  (some  nine  hundred  odd  miles)  as  much  food 
and  liquid  fuel  as  the  men  and  dogs  of  that  party  would 
consume  during  the  journey.  It  will  be  readily  xmder- 
stood  that  when  a  large  party  of  men  and  dogs  starts 
out  over  the  trackless  ice  to  the  polar  sea,  where  there 
is  no  possibility  of  obtaining  a  single  ounce  of  food  on 
the  way,  after  several  days'  marching,  the  provisions 
of  one  or  more  sledges  will  have  been  consumed  by  the 
men  and  dogs.  When  this  occurs,  the  drivers  and 
dogs  with  those  sledges  should  be  sent  back  to  the 
land  at  once.  They  are  superfluous  mouths  which  can- 
not be  fed  from  the  precious  supply  of  provisions  which 
are  being  dragged  forward  on  the  sledges. 

Still  further  on,  the  food  on  one  or  two  more  sledges 
will  have  been  consumed.  These  sledges  also,  with 
their  dogs  and  drivers,  must  be  sent  back,  in  order  to 
ensure  the  furthest  possible  advance  by  the  main  party. 
Later  on,  still  other  divisions  must  be  sent  back  for  the 
same  reason. 


ESSENTIALS    OF    SUCCESS     207 

But  my  supporting  parties  had  another  duty  to  per- 
form, only  a  httle  less  important  than  the  one  already 
noted;  that  was  to  keep  the  trail  open  for  the  rapid 
return  of  the  main  party. 

The  magnitude  of  this  duty  is  clear.  The  ice  of 
the  polar  sea  is  not  an  immovable  surface.  Twenty- 
four  hours  —  or  even  twelve  hours  —  of  strong  wind, 
even  in  the  depth  of  the  coldest  winter,  will  set  the  big 
floes  grinding  and  twisting  among  themselves,  crushing 
up  into  pressure  ridges  in  one  place,  breaking  into 
leads  in  another  place. 

Under  normal  conditions,  however,  this  movement 
of  the  ice  is  not  very  great  in  a  period  of  eight  or  ten 
days,  so  that  a  party  starting  back  over  an  outward 
trail  at  the  end  of  several  days  is  able  to  knit  together 
all  faults  and  breaks  in  the  trail  that  have  occurred  dur- 
ing that  period  by  reason  of  the  movement  of  the  ice. 

The  second  supporting  party,  starting  back  several 
days  later  from  a  point  still  farther  on,  knits  together 
the  broken  ends  of  the  trail  of  its  own  division;  and 
when  it  comes  upon  the  trail  of  the  first  supporting 
party,  reunites  such  other  breaks  as  have  occurred 
since  the  first  supporting  party  went  over  it  on  its  way 
back  to  land.  So  with  the  third  and  fourth  supporting 
parties. 

When  I  speak  of  knitting  together  breaks  in  the 
trail,  I  mean  simply  that  the  passage  of  the  supporting 
party  from  that  point  where  the  trail  was  broken  by  the 
movement  of  the  ice  to  the  point  where  the  trail  went 
on  again,  some  distance  either  to  the  east  or  west, 
would  itself  renew  the  broken  trail,  the  passage  of  the 
men  and  dog  teams  packing  down  the  ice  and  snow. 


208  THENORTHPOLE 

So  that  when  the  main  party  came  back  it  would  simply 
follow  the  track  of  the  supporting  party,  and  not  have 
to  scout  for  the  trail. 

As  a  result  of  this  method  of  keeping  the  return  trail 
continuously  open,  when  the  main  party  starts  io  return 
it  has  a  continuous  trail  back  to  the  land,  which  it  can 
follow  with  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  per  cent,  greater 
speed  than  it  was  possible  to  make  on  the  outward 
journey.  The  reasons  for  this  are  obvious:  no  time  is 
wasted  in  selecting  and  breaking  a  trail;  the  dogs  are 
more  energetic  when  following  a  beaten  track  and 
when  on  the  road  home;  no  time  is  wasted  in  making 
camp,  the  snow  igloos  built  on  the  outward  journey 
being  reoccupied  on  the  return  journey. 

It  must  be  understood  that  when  each  supporting 
party  reached  the  land  again,  its  work  in  regard  to  the 
polar  dash  was  over.  It  did  not  come  back  onto  the  ice 
with  any  further  supplies  for  the  main  party. 

At  the  very  end,  when  the  supporting  parties  have 
performed  their  important  work  of  trail-breaking  and 
transportation  of  supplies,  the  main  party  for  the  final 
journey  must  be  small  and  carefully  selected,  as  the 
small  party  resulting  from  the  successive  selection  of 
the  fittest,  can  travel  much  faster  than  a  large  one. 

Each  division  of  four  men  was  absolutely  independ- 
ent and  had  its  complete  traveling  outfit;  in  fact,  except 
for  the  alcohol  stove  and  cooking  utensils,  each  sledge 
was  complete  in  itself.  On  each  sledge  were  the  pro- 
visions for  men  and  dogs,  and  clothing  for  the  driver. 
The  standard  sledge  load  would  support  the  driver  and 
the  dog  team  for  about  fifty  days,  and  by  sacrificing  a 
few  dogs  and  using  them  as  food  for  the  other  dogs  and 


.■*^«>i»>^  *  i 


TYPICAL  VIEW  OF  THE  ICE  OF  THE  ARCTIC  OCEAN,   NORTH  OF  GRANT 

LAND 


{i^'^'>i&l««S^    -^1^       4  1 


TYPICAL  CAMP   ON  THE  ICE 


ESSENTIALS    OF    SUCCESS     209 

the  men,  this  time  could  have  been  extended  to  sixty 
days.  Had  any  sledge  and  its  provisions  been  cut  oflF 
from  the  rest  of  the  division,  the  man  with  it  would  have 
had  everything  he  needed,  except  the  cooking  outfit. 
Had  the  sledge  which  carried  the  alcohol  stove  been  lost, 
either  in  a  lead  or  otherwise,  the  party  to  which  it 
belonged  would  have  had  to  double  up  with  one  of  the 
other  divisions. 

The  new  alcohol  stove,  the  design  of  which  I  had 
perfected  during  the  winter,  was  used  altogether  on  this 
northern  sledge  trip.  We  did  not  carry  oil-stoves  at 
all,  except  some  very  small  ones  with  two-inch  wicks, 
which  we  used  for  drying  mittens. 

The  standard  method  for  loading  each  sledge  was 
as  follows:  On  the  bottom  was  a  layer  of  dog  pemmican 
in  red  tins,  covering  the  entire  length  and  width  of  the 
sledge;  on  this  were  two  tins  of  biscuit,  and  crew 
pemmican  in  blue  tins;  then  the  tins  of  alcohol  and 
condensed  milk,  a  small  skin  rug  for  the  man  to  sleep  on 
at  night  in  the  igloo,  snowshoes  and  spare  footgear,  a 
pickax  and  a  saw  knife  for  cutting  snow  blocks. 
Practically  the  only  extra  items  of  wearing  apparel 
which  were  carried  were  a  few  pairs  of  Eskimo  sealskin 
kamiks  (boots),  for  it  can  readily  be  imagined  that 
several  hundred  miles  of  such  walking  and  stumbling 
over  snow  and  ice  would  be  rather  hard  on  any  kind  of 
footgear  which  could  be  made. 

Compactness  was  the  main  idea  in  packing  one  of 
these  sledges,  the  center  of  gravity  of  the  load  being 
brought  as  low  as  possible  in  order  that  the  sledges 
might  not  easily  overturn. 

The  standard  daily  ration  for  work  on  the  final 


210  THENORTHPOLE 

sledge  journey  toward  the  Pole  on  all  expeditions  has 
been  as  follows:  .. 

1  lb.  pemmiean,  1  lb.  ship's  biscuit,  4  oz.  condensed 
milk,  I  oz.  compressed  tea,  6  oz.  liquid  fuel,  alcohol  or 
petroleum.  A  total  of  2  lbs.  4^  oz.  of  solids  per  man, 
per  day. 

On  this  ration  a  man  can  work  hard  and  keep  in 
good  condition  in  the  lowest  temperatures  for  a  very 
long  time.  I  believe  that  no  other  item  of  food,  either 
for  heat  or  muscle  building,  is  needed. 

The  daily  ration  for  the  dogs  is  one  pound  of  pem- 
miean per  day;  but  so  hardy  are  these  descendants  of 
the  arctic  wolves  that  when  there  is  a  scarcity  of  food 
they  can  work  for  a  long  time  on  very  little  to  eat.  I 
have,  however,  always  endeavored  so  to  proportion 
provisions  to  the  length  of  time  in  the  field,  that  the 
dogs  should  be  at  least  as  well  fed  as  myself. 

A  part  of  the  scientific  work  of  the  expedition  was 
a  series  of  deep-sea  soundings  from  Cape  Columbia  to 
the  Pole.  The  sounding  apparatus  of  the  expedition  on 
leaving  Cape  Columbia  comprised  two  wooden  reels  of 
a  length  equal  to  the  width  of  the  sledge,  a  detachable 
wooden  crank  to  go  on  each  end  of  the  reel,  to  each  reel 
a  thousand  fathoms  (six  thousand  feet)  of  specially 
made  steel  piano  wire  of  a  diameter  .028  inches,  and 
one  fourteen-pound  lead  having  at  its  lower  end  a  small 
bronze  clam-shell  device,  self-tripping  when  it  reached 
the  bottom,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  up  samples  of 
the  ocean  bed.  The  weights  of  this  outfit  were  as  fol- 
lows: each  thousand  fathoms  of  wire  12.42  pounds, 
each  wooden  reel  18  pounds,  each  lead  14  pounds.  A 
complete  thousand-fathom  outfit  weighed  44.42  pounds. 


ESSENTIALS    OF    SUCCESS     211 

The  two  outfits,  therefore,  weighed  89  pounds,  and  a 
third  extra  lead  brought  this  total  up  to  103  pounds. 

Both  the  sounding  leads  and  the  wire  were  made 
especially  for  the  expedition,  and  so  far  as  I  know  they 
were  the  lightest,  for  their  capacity,  that  have  ever 
been  used. 

One  sounding  apparatus  was  carried  by  the  main 
division  and  the  other  by  the  pioneer  party,  in  the 
early  stages  of  our  progress.  When  there  was  a  lead 
we  soimded  from  the  edge  of  it;  when  there  was  no 
open  water  we  made  a  hole  in  the  ice  if  we  could  find 
any  that  was  thin  enough  for  the  purpose. 

Two  men  could  readily  make  these  deep-sea  sound- 
ings by  reason  of  the  lightness  of  the  equipment. 

The  distance  which  we  traveled  day  by  day  was  at 
first  determined  by  dead  reckoning,  to  be  verified  later 
by  observations  for  latitude.  Dead  reckoning  was 
simply  the  compass  course  for  direction,  and  for  distance 
the  mean  estimate  of  Bartlett,  Marvin,  and  myself  as  to 
the  length  of  the  day's  march.  On  board  ship  dead 
reckoning  is  the  compass  course  for  direction  and  the 
reading  of  the  log  for  distance.  On  the  inland  ice  of 
Greenland  my  dead  reckoning  was  the  compass  course, 
and  the  reading  of  my  odometer,  a  wheel  with  a  cyclome- 
ter registering  apparatus.  This  could  not  possibly 
be  used  on  the  ice  of  the  polar  sea,  as  it  would  be 
smashed  to  pieces  in  the  rough  going.  One  might  say 
in  general  that  dead  reckoning  on  the  polar  ice  is  the 
personal  estimate  of  approximate  distance,  always 
checked  and  corrected  from  time  to  time  by  astro- 
nomical observations. 

Three  members  of  the  expedition  had  had  sufficient 


212  THENORTHPOLE 

experience  in  traveling  over  arctic  ice  to  enable  them 
to  estimate  a  day's  journey  very  closely.  These  three 
were  Bartlett,  Marvin,  and  myself.  When  we  checked 
up  our  dead  reckoning  by  astronomical  observations, 
the  mean  of  our  three  estimates  was  found  to  be  a 
satisfactory  approximation  to  the  results  of  the 
observations. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  mere  dead  reckoning, 
entirely  unchecked  by  astronomical  observations,  would 
be  insuflScient  for  scientific  purposes.  During  the 
earlier  stages  of  our  journey  there  was  no  sun  by  which 
to  take  observations.  Later,  when  we  had  sunlight, 
we  took  what  observations  were  necessary  to  check  our 
dead  reckonings  —  but  no  more,  since  I  did  not  wish  to 
waste  the  energies  or  strain  the  eyes  of  Marvin,  Bart- 
lett, or  myself. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  observations  were  taken  every 
five  marches,  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  to  take  them 
at  all. 


CHAPTER  XXIIl 

OFF  ACROSS  THE  FROZEN  SEA  AT  LAST 

THE  work  of  the  expedition,  to  which  all  the 
former  months  of  detail  were  merely  pre- 
liminary, began  with  Bartlett's  departure 
from  the  Roosevelt  on  the  15th  of  February  for  the  final 
sledge  journey  toward  the  Pole.  The  preceding 
summer  we  had  driven  the  ship  through  the  almost 
solid  ice  of  the  channels  lying  between  Etah  and  Cape 
Sheridan;  we  had  hunted  through  the  long  twilight  of 
the  autumn  to  supply  ourselves  with  meat;  we  had 
lived  through  the  black  and  melancholy  months-long 
arctic  night,  sustaining  our  spirits  with  the  hope  of 
final  success  when  the  returning  light  should  enable 
us  to  attack  the  problem  of  our  passage  across  the  ice 
of  the  polar  sea.  Now  these  things  were  all  behind 
us,  and  the  final  work  was  to  begin. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  February  22d — 
Washington's  Birthday  —  when  I  finally  got  away  from 
the  ship  and  started  on  the  journey  toward  the  Pole. 
This  was  one  day  earlier  than  I  had  left  the  ship  three 
years  before  on  the  same  errand.  I  had  with  me  two 
of  the  younger  Eskimos,  Arco  and  Kudlooktoo,  two 
sledges  and  sixteen  dogs.  The  weather  was  thick,  the 
air  was  filled  with  a  light  snow,  and  the  temperature 
was  31°  below  zero. 

There  was  now  light  enough  to  travel  by  at  ten 

213 


214  THENORTHPOLE 

o'clock  in  the  morning.  When  Bartlett  had  left  the 
ship  a  week  before,  it  was  still  so  dark  that  he  had  been 
obliged  to  use  a  lantern  in  order  to  follow  the  trail 
northward  along  the  ice-foot. 

When  I  finally  got  away  from  the  ship,  there  were  in 
the  field,  for  the  northern  work,  seven  members  of  the 
expedition,  nineteen  Eskimos,  one  hundred  and  forty 
dogs,  and  twenty-eight  sledges.  As  already  stated,  the 
six  advance  divisions  were  to  meet  me  at  Cape  Colum- 
bia on  the  last  day  of  February.  These  parties,  as  well 
as  my  own,  had  all  followed  the  regular  trail  to  Cape 
Columbia,  which  had  been  kept  open  during  the  fall 
and  winter  by  the  hunting  parties  and  supply-trains. 
This  trail  followed  the  ice-foot  along  the  coast  the 
greater  part  of  the  way,  only  taking  to  the  land  occa- 
sionally to  cut  across  a  peninsula  and  thus  shorten  the 
road. 

On  the  last  day  of  February  Bartlett  and  Borup  got 
away  to  the  North  with  their  divisions,  as  soon  as  it  was 
light  enough  to  travel.  The  weather  still  remained 
clear,  calm,  and  cold.  After  the  pioneer  division  had 
started  north,  all  the  remaining  sledges  were  lined  up, 
and  I  examined  them  to  see  that  each  had  the  standard 
load  and  full  equipment.  On  leaving  the  Roosevelt  I 
had  in  the  field  exactly  enough  dogs  to  put  twenty 
teams  of  seven  dogs  each  on  the  ice,  and  had  counted  on 
doing  this;  but  while  we  were  at  Cape  Columbia  the 
throat  distemper  broke  out  in  one  team,  and  six  dogs 
died.     This  left  me  only  enough  for  nineteen  teams. 

My  plans  were  further  disarranged  by  the  disabling 
of  two  Eskimos.  I  had  counted  on  having  a  pickax 
brigade,   composed   of  Marvin,  MacMillan,  and  Dr. 


ACROSS   THE   FROZEN    SEA     215 

Goodsell,  ahead  of  the  main  party,  improving  the  road, 
but  found  that  two  Eskimos  would  be  unfit  to  go  on  the 
ice  —  one  having  a  frosted  heel,  and  the  other  a  swollen 
knee.  This  depletion  in  the  ranks  of  sledge  drivers 
meant  that  Marvin  and  MacMillan  would  each  have  to 
drive  a  dog  team,  and  that  the  pickax  squad  would  be 
reduced  to  one  man  —  Dr.  Goodsell.  As  it  turned  out, 
this  did  not  make  much  difference.  The  going  was 
not  so  rough  in  the  beginning  as  I  had  anticipated,  and 
most  of  the  pickax  work  that  was  required  could  be 
done  by  the  drivers  of  the  sledges  as  they  reached 
the  difficult  places. 

When  I  awoke  before  light  on  the  morning  of  March 
1st,  the  wind  was  whistling  about  the  igloo.  This 
phenomenon,  appearing  on  the  very  day  of  our  start, 
after  so  many  days  of  calm,  seetiied  the  perversity  of 
hard  luck.  I  looked  through  the  peep-hole  of  the  igloo 
and  saw  that  the  weather  was  still  clear,  and  that  the 
stars  were  scintillating  like  diamonds.  The  wind  was 
from  the  east  —  a  direction  from  which  I  had  never 
known  it  to  blow  in  all  my  years  of  experience  in  that 
region.  This  unusual  circumstance,  a  really  remark- 
able thing,  was  of  course  attributed  by  my  Eskimos 
to  the  interference  of  their  arch  enemy,  Tornarsuk  — 
in  plain  English,  the  devil  —  with  my  plans. 

After  breakfast,  with  the  first  glimmer  of  daylight, 
we  got  outside  the  igloo  and  looked  about.  The  wind 
was  whistling  wildly  around  the  eastern  end  of  Inde- 
pendence Bluff;  and  the  ice-fields  to  the  north,  as  well 
as  all  the  lower  part  of  the  land,  were  invisible  in  that 
gray  haze  which,  every  experienced  arctic  traveler 
knows,  means  vicious  wind.     A  party  less  perfectly 


216  THENORTHPOLE 

clothed  than  we  were  would  have  found  conditions 
very  trying  that  morning.  Some  parties  would  have 
considered  the  weather  impossible  for  traveling,  and 
would  have  gone  back  to  their  igloos. 

But,  taught  by  the  experience  of  three  years  before, 
I  had  given  the  members  of  my  party  instructions  to 
wear  their  old  winter  clothing  from  the  ship  to  Cape 
Columbia  and  while  there,  and  to  put  on  the  new  outfit 
made  for  the  sledge  journey  when  leaving  Columbia. 
Therefore  we  were  all  in  our  new  and  perfectly  dry  fur 
clothes  and  could  bid  defiance  to  the  wind. 

One  by  one  the  divisions  drew  out  from  the  main 
army  of  sledges  and  dog  teams,  took  up  Bartlett's 
trail  over  the  ice  and  disappeared  to  the  northward  in 
the  wind  haze.  This  departure  of  the  procession  was  a 
noiseless  one,  for  the  freezing  east  wind  carried  all 
sounds  away.  It  was  also  invisible  after  the  first  few 
moments  —  men  and  dogs  being  swallowed  up  almost 
immediately  in  the  wind  haze  and  the  drifting  snow. 

I  finally  brought  up  the  rear  with  my  own  division, 
after  getting  things  into  some  semblance  of  order,  and 
giving  the  two  disabled  men  left  at  Cape  Columbia  their 
final  instructions  to  remain  quietly  in  the  igloo  there, 
using  certain  supplies  which  were  left  with  them  until 
the  first  supporting  party  returned  to  Cape  Columbia, 
when  they  were  to  go  back  with  it  to  the  ship. 

An  hour  after  I  left  camp  my  division  had  crossed  the 
glacial  fringe,  and  the  last  man,  sledge,  and  dog  of 
the  Northern  party  —  comprising  altogether  twenty- 
four  men,  nineteen  sledges,  and  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
three  dogs  —  was  at  last  on  the  ice  of  the  Arctic  Ocean, 
about  latitude  83°. 


-;■"■! 

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ACROSS   THE   FROZEN    SEA     217 

Our  start  from  the  land  this  last  time  was  eight  days 
earlier  than  the  start  three  years  before,  six  days  of 
calendar  time  and  two  days  of  distance,  our  present 
latitude  being  about  two  marches  farther  north  than 
Cape  Hecla,  our  former  point  of  departure. 

When  we  were  far  enough  out  on  the  ice  to  be  away 
from  the  shelter  of  the  land,  we  got  the  full  force  of  the 
violent  wind.  But  it  was  not  in  our  faces,  and  as  we 
had  a  trail  which  could  be  followed,  even  if  with  heads 
down  and  eyes  half  closed,  the  wind  did  not  impede 
us  or  cause  us  serious  discomfort.  Nevertheless,  I  did 
not  like  to  dwell  upon  the  inevitable  effect  which  it 
would  have  upon  the  ice  farther  out  —  the  opening  of 
leads  across  our  route. 

When  we  dropped  off  the  edge  of  the  glacial  fringe 
onto  the  pressure  ridges  of  the  tidal  crack  already 
described,  in  spite  of  the  free  use  of  our  pickaxes  and 
the  pickaxes  of  the  pioneer  division,  which  had  gone 
before,  the  trail  was  a  most  trying  one  for  men,  dogs,  and 
sledges,  especially  the  old  Eskimo  type  of  sledge.  The 
new  "Peary"  sledges,  by  reason  of  their  length  and 
shape,  rode  much  more  easily  and  with  less  strain  than 
the  others.  Every  one  was  glad  to  reach  the  surface 
of  the  old  floes  beyond  this  crazy  zone  of  ice  which  was 
several  miles  in  width.  As  soon  as  we  struck  the  old 
floes  the  going  was  much  better.  There  appeared  to  be 
no  great  depth  of  snow,  only  a  few  inches,  and  this  had 
been  hammered  fairly  hard  by  the  winter  winds.  Still 
the  surface  over  which  we  traveled  was  very  uneven, 
and  in  many  places  was  distinctly  trying  to  the  sledges, 
the  wood  of  which  was  made  brittle  by  the  low  tempera- 
ture, now  in  the  minus  fifties.     On  the  whole,  however. 


218  THENORTHPOLE 

I  felt  that  if  we  encountered  nothing  worse  than  this  in 
the  first  hundred  miles  from  the  land  we  should  have 
no  serious  cause  for  complaint. 

A  little  farther  on,  while  walking  alone  behind  my 
division,  I  met  Kyutah  of  Marvin's  division,  hurry- 
ing back  with  empty  sledge.  He  had  smashed  his 
sledge  so  badly  that  it  seemed  better  to  go  back  to  Cape 
Columbia  for  one  of  the  reserve  sledges  there  than  to 
attempt  to  repair  the  broken  one.  He  was  cautioned 
not  to  waste  a  minute  and  to  be  sure  to  overtake  us  at 
our  camp  that  night,  and  he  was  soon  disappearing  into 
the  wind  haze  in  our  rear. 

Still  farther  on  I  met  Kudlooktoo,  returning  on  the 
same  errand,  and  a  little  later  came  upon  some  of  the 
other  divisions  that  had  been  obliged  to  stop  to  repair 
their  sledges  which  had  suffered  severely  in  their 
encounters  with  the  rough  ice. 

Finally  I  reached  the  captain's  first  camp,  ten  miles 
out.  Here  I  took  one  of  the  two  igloos,  and  Marvin 
took  the  other.  The  divisions  of  Goodsell,  MacMillan, 
and  Henson  were  to  build  their  own  igloos  this  first 
night.  Bartlett  and  Borup  being  in  advance,  would 
each  build  an  igloo  at  every  one  of  their  camps.  I,  being 
the  oldest  man  in  the  party,  was  to  take  one  of  these, 
and  the  order  of  precedence  in  which  the  divisions  of 
Marvin,  MacMillan,  Goodsell,  and  Henson  were  to 
occupy  the  second  of  the  already  constructed  igloos  had 
been  determined  by  lot  at  Columbia,  the  first  lot  falling 
to  Marvin.  Later,  when  Bartlett's  division  alone  was 
in  the  lead,  there  was  only  one  igloo  already  built  at 
each  camp  on  the  line  of  march. 

The  day  twilight,  which  now  lasted  about  twelve 


ACROSS   THE    FROZEN    SEA    219 

hours,  had  disappeared  entirely  by  the  time  the  last 
sledge  reached  this  first  camp.  It  had  been  a  trying 
day  for  the  sledges.  The  new  "Peary  "  type,  by  reason 
of  its  shape  and  greater  length,  had  come  off  best. 
Though  two  of  these  had  suffered  minor  damages,  none 
of  them  had  been  put  out  of  commission.  Two  of  the 
old  Eskimo  type  had  been  smashed  completely,  and 
another  nearly  so. 

The  dogs  were  soon  fed,  and  each  division  went  for 
supper  and  rest  to  its  own  igloo,  leaving  the  rugged 
surface  of  the  ice  to  the  darkness,  and  the  howling  wind 
and  drift.  The  march  had  been  a  somewhat  hard  one 
for  me,  because,  for  the  first  time  in  sixteen  years,  the 
leg  which  I  had  broken  in  Greenland,  in  1891,  had 
been  causing  me  considerable  trouble. 

The  door  of  my  igloo  had  scarcely  been  closed  by  a 
block  of  snow,  when  one  of  Henson's  Eskimos  came 
running  over,  blue  with  fright,  to  tell  me  that  Tornar- 
suk  was  in  camp,  and  that  they  could  not  light  the  alco- 
hol in  their  new  stove.  I  did  not  understand  this,  as 
the  stoves  had  all  been  tested  on  board  ship  and  had 
worked  to  perfection;  but  I  got  out  and  went  over  to 
Henson's  igloo,  where  it  appeared  that  he  had  used  up  a 
whole  box  of  matches  in  unsuccessful  efforts  to  light  his 
stove.  Our  stoves  were  of  an  entirely  new  design,  using 
no  wicks,  and  a  moment's  examination  disclosed  the 
trouble.  It  was  so  cold  that  there  was  no  vaporization 
from  the  alcohol,  and  it  would  not  light  directly  as  at 
higher  temperatures.  A  bit  of  paper  dropped  into  it 
and  lighted  was  the  solution,  and  there  was  no  further 
trouble. 

The  failure  of  even  one  of  our  alcohol  stoves  would 


220  THENORTHPOLE 

have  seriously  impaired  our  chances,  as  the  men  of  that 
division  could  not  have  boiled  the  tea  which  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  work  in  those  low  temperatures. 
Kyutah,  the  Eskimo  who  had  gone  back  to  land  with 
his  broken  sledge,  came  in  during  the  night,  but  Kud- 
looktoo  failed  to  put  in  an  appearance.  Thus  the  end 
of  our  first  day  over  the  polar  ice  found  the  expedition 
one  man  short. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   FIRST   OPEN   WATER 

THE  first  serious  obstacle  of  the  sledge  journey 
was  encountered  the  second  day  out  from  land. 
The  day  was  cloudy,  the  wind  continuing  to 
blow  from  the  east  with  unabated  violence.  Again  I 
intentionally  brought  up  the  rear  of  my  division,  in 
order  to  see  that  everything  was  going  right  and  that 
every  one  was  accounted  for.  The  going  was  much  the 
same  as  on  the  previous  day,  rough  and  trying  to  the 
endurance  of  men,  dogs  and  sledges. 

When  we  had  made  about  three-quarters  of  a  march 
we  saw  ahead  of  us  a  dark  ominous  cloud  upon  the 
northern  horizon,  which  always  means  open  water. 
There  is  always  fog  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  leads. 
The  open  water  supplies  the  evaporation,  the  cold  air 
acts  as  a  condenser,  and  when  the  wind  is  blowing  just 
right  this  forms  a  fog  so  dense  that  at  times  it  looks  as 
black  as  the  smoke  of  a  prairie  fire. 

Sure  enough,  just  ahead  of  us  were  black  spots 
against  the  snow  which  I  knew  to  be  my  various 
divisions  held  up  by  a  lead.  When  we  came  up  with 
them  I  saw  a  lane  of  open  water,  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  wide,  which  had  formed  since  the  captain  had 
passed  the  day  before.  The  wind  had  been  getting  in 
its  work! 

I  gave  the  word  to  camp  (there  was  nothing  else  to 

iii 


THE   NORTH   POLE 

do),  and  while  the  igloos  were  being  built,  Marvin  and 
MacMillan  made  a  sounding  from  the  edge  of  the  lead, 
getting  ninety-six  fathoms. 

This  march  to  the  edge  of  the  lead  put  us  beyond 
the  British  record  of  83°  20'  made  by  Captain  Markham, 
R.  N.,  north  of  Cape  Joseph  Henry,  May  12,  1876. 

Before  daylight  the  next  morning  we  heard  the 
grinding  of  the  ice,  which  told  us  that  the  lead  was 
at  last  crushing  together,  and  I  gave  the  signal  to 
the  other  three  igloos,  by  pounding  with  a  hatchet  on 
the  ice  floor  of  my  igloo,  to  fire  up  and  get  breakfast  in 
a  hurry.  The  morning  was  clear  again,  excepting  for 
the  wind  haze,  but  the  wind  still  continued  to  blow  with 
unabated  violence. 

With  the  first  of  the  daylight  we  were  hurrying 
across  the  lead  on  the  raftering  young  ice,  which  was 
moving,  crushing,  and  piling  up  with  the  closing  of  the 
sides  of  the  lead.  If  the  reader  will  imagine  crossing 
a  river  on  a  succession  of  gigantic  shingles,  one,  two, 
or  three  deep  and  all  afloat  and  moving,  he  will  perhaps 
form  an  idea  of  the  uncertain  surface  over  which  we 
crossed  this  lead.  Such  a  passage  is  distinctly  trying, 
as  any  moment  may  lose  a  sledge  and  its  team,  or 
plunge  a  member  of  the  party  into  the  icy  water. 
On  the  other  side  there  was  no  sign  of  Bartlett's 
trail.  This  meant  that  the  lateral  movement  (that  is 
east  and  west)  of  the  ice  shores  of  the  lead  had  carried 
the  trail  along  with  it. 

After  an  hour  or  two  of  marching,  we  found  our- 
selves in  the  fork  of  two  other  leads,  and  unable  to  move 
in  any  direction.  The  young  ice  (that  is,  the  recently 
frozen  ice)  on  the  more  westerly  of  these  leads,  though 


FIRST   OPEN   WATER  223 

too  thin  to  sustain  the  weight  of  the  sledges,  was  yet 
strong  enough  to  bear  an  Eskimo,  and  I  sent  Kyutah  to 
the  west  to  scout  for  the  captain's  trail,  while  the  other 
Eskimos  built  out  of  snow  blocks  a  shelter  from  the 
wind,  and  repaired  some  minor  damages  to  our  sledges. 

In  half  an  hour  or  so  Kyutah  returned  from  the 
west,  signaling  that  he  had  found  Bartlett's  trail.  Soon 
after  he  reached  us  a  movement  of  the  shores  of  the  lead 
to  the  west  crushed  up  the  narrow  ribbon  of  unsafe 
young  ice  over  which  he  had  passed,  and  we  were  able 
to  hurry  across  with  sledges  and  push  west  for  the  trail, 
which  was  about  a  mile  and  a  half  distant. 

When  we  reached  the  trail  we  saw,  by  the  tracks  of 
men  and  dogs  pointing  south,  that  Borup  had  already 
passed  that  way  on  his  return  to  Columbia,  in  accord- 
ance with  my  program.  He  had  probably  crossed  the 
lead  and  was  now  scouting  for  our  trail  somewhere  on 
the  southerly  side. 

As  soon  as  Marvin,  who  was  following  me,  came  up, 
I  had  Kyutah  throw  off  his  sledge  load,  and  sent  Mar- 
vin and  the  Eskimo  on  the  back  trail  to  "Crane  City," 
Cape  Columbia.  I  did  this  partly  because  of  the  pos- 
sibility that  there  might  be  complications  there  in 
which  Borup,  who  was  new  to  the  work,  would  feel  the 
need  of  a  man  of  Marvin's  wider  experience,  and  partly 
because  many  of  our  alcohol  and  petroleum  tins  had 
sprung  leaks  in  the  rough  going  of  the  last  few  days,  and 
an  additional  supply  was  needed  to  make  up  for  present 
and  possible  future  loss.  The  change  of  the  loads  was 
effected  in  a  few  minutes,  without  delay  to  the  main 
party,  which  kept  right  on,  and  Marvin  and  his  dusky 
companion  were  soon  out  of  sight. 


224  THENORTHPOLE 

The  captain's  third  camp  was  reached  before  dark 
that  night.  All  day  long  the  wind  kept  us  company, 
and  we  could  see  by  the  water  clouds  all  about  us  that 
the  leads  were  open  here  and  there  in  every  direction. 
Fortunately  none  of  them  immediately  crossed  our 
trail,  and  the  going  was  much  as  on  the  previous  day. 

During  this  march  we  saw,  above  the  summits  of  the 
great  land  mountains  which  were  still  visible  to  the  south 
of  us,  a  flaming  blade  of  yellow  light  which  reached 
half  way  to  the  zenith  —  in  other  words,  after  nearly 
five  months,  we  could  almost  see  the  sun  again  as  he 
skimmed  along  just  under  the  southern  horizon.  Only 
a  day  or  two  more,  and  his  light  would  shine  directly 
upon  us.  The  feeling  of  the  arctic  traveler  for  the 
returning  sun  after  the  long  darkness  is  a  feeling  hard  to 
interpret  to  those  who  are  accustomed  to  seeing  the  sun 
every  morning. 

On  the  following  day,  March  4,  the  weather  changed. 
The  sky  was  overcast  with  clouds,  the  wind  had  swung 
completely  around  to  the  west  during  the  night,  there 
were  occasional  squalls  of  light  snow,  and  the  thermome- 
ter had  risen  to  only  9°  below  zero.  This  temperature, 
after  that  of  the  minus  fifties,  in  which  we  had  been 
traveling,  seemed  almost  oppressively  warm.  The 
leads  were  even  more  numerous  than  the  day  before, 
and  their  presence  was  clearly  outlined  by  the  heavy 
black  clouds.  A  mile  or  two  east  of  us  there  was  a  lead 
stretching  far  to  the  north  and  directly  parallel  with  our 
course,  which  did  not  cause  us  any  apprehension.  But 
a  broad  and  ominous  band  of  black  extending  far  to  the 
east  and  west  across  our  course  and  apparently  ten  or 
fifteen  miles  to  the  north  of  us,  gave  me  serious  concern. 


H 
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s'V  -;)!, 


FIRST   OPEN   WATER  225 

Evidently  the  ice  was  all  abroad  in  every  direction, 
and  the  high  temperature  and  snow  accompanying  the 
west  wind  proved  that  there  was  a  large  amount  of  open 
water  in  that  direction. 

The  outlook  was  not  pleasant,  but  as  some  com- 
pensation the  going  was  not  quite  so  rough.  As  we 
advanced,  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  as  yet  none  of  the 
leads  cut  Bartlett's  trail.  Consequently  we  made  good 
progress,  and  though  the  march  was  distinctly  longer 
than  the  previous  one,  we  reached  Bartlett's  igloo  in 
good  time. 

Here  I  found  a  note  from  Bartlett  which  had  evi- 
dently been  despatched  by  an  Eskimo,  informing  me 
that  he  was  in  camp  about  a  mile  farther  north  — 
held  up  by  open  water.  This  explained  the  black, 
ominous  band  which  I  had  been  watching  for  hours 
on  the  northern  horizon,  and  which  had  gradually 
risen  as  we  approached  until  it  was  now  almost 
overhead. 

Pushing  on,  we  soon  reached  the  captain's  catap. 
There  I  found  the  familiar  unwelcome  sight  which  I 
had  so  often  before  me  on  the  expedition  of  1905-06 — 
the  white  expanse  of  ice  cut  by  a  river  of  inky  black 
water,  throwing  off  dense  clouds  of  vapor  which 
gathered  in  a  sullen  canopy  overhead,  at  times  swinging 
lower  with  the  wind  and  obscuring  the  opposite  shore 
of  this  malevolent  Styx. 

The  lead  had  opened  directly  through  the  heavy 
floes,  and,  considering  that  these  floes  are  sometimes  one 
hundred  feet  in  thickness,  and  of  almost  unimaginable 
weight,  the  force  that  could  open  such  a  river  through 
them  is  comparable  with  the  forces  that  threw  up  the 


226  THE   NORTH   POLE 

mountains  on  the  continents  and  opened  the  channels 
between  the  lands. 

Bartlett  told  me  that  during  the  previous  night  in 
the  camp  a  mile  farther  south  where  I  had  found  his 
note,  the  noise  caused  by  the  opening  of  this  great  lead 
had  awakened  him  from  sleep.  The  open  water  was 
now  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  width,  and  extended 
east  and  west  as  far  as  we  could  see  when  we  climbed 
to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  ice  in  the  neighborhood  of 
our  camp. 

Two  or  three  miles  to  the  east  of  us,  as  we  could  see 
by  the  vapor  hanging  over  it,  the  north  and  south  lead 
which  had  paralleled  our  last  two  marches  intersected 
the  course  of  the  lead  beside  which  we  were  encamped. 

Though  farther  south  than  where  we  had  encoun- 
tered the  "Big  Lead"  in  1906,  north  of  Cape  Hecla, 
this  one  had  every  resemblance  to  that  great  river 
of  open  water  which  on  the  way  up  we  had  called 
"the  Hudson,"  and  on  our  way  back  —  when  it  seemed 
that  those  black  waters  had  cut  us  off  forever  from  the 
land — we  had  renamed  "the  Styx."  The  resemblance 
was  so  strong  that  even  the  Eskimos  who  had  been  with 
me  On  the  expedition  three  years  before  spoke  about  it. 

I  was  glad  to  see  that  there  was  no  lateral  movement 
in  the  ice;  that  is,  that  the  two  shores  of  the  lead  were 
not  moving  east  or  west,  or  in  opposite  directions.  The 
lead  was  simply  an  opening  in  the  ice  under  the  pres- 
sure of  the  wind  and  the  spring  tides,  which  were  now 
swelling  to  the  full  moon  on  the  6th. 

Captain  Bartlett,  with  his  usual  thoughtfulness,  had 
an  igloo  already  built  for  me  near  his  own  when  I 
arrived.     While  the  other  three  divisions  were  building 


FIRST   OPEN   WATER  227 

their  igloos  the  captain  took  a  sounding,  and  obtained 
a  depth  of  one  hundred  and  ten  fathoms.  We  were 
now  about  forty -five  miles  north  of  Cape  Columbia. 

The  next  day,  March  5,  was  a  fine,  clear  day,  with  a 
light  westerly  breeze,  and  a  temperature  of  20°  below 
zero.  For  a  Kttle  while  about  noon  the  sun  lay,  a 
great  yellow  ball,  along  the  southern  horizon.  Our 
satisfaction  at  seeing  it  again  was  almost  compensation 
for  our  impatience  at  being  delayed  there  —  beside  the 
gradually  widening  lead.  Had  it  not  been  cloudy  on 
the  4th,  we  should  have  seen  the  sun  one  day  earlier. 

During  the  night  the  lead  had  narrowed  somewhat, 
raftering  the  young  ice.  Then,  under  the  impulse  of 
the  tidal  wave,  it  had  opened  wider  than  ever,  leaving, 
in  spite  of  the  constantly  forming  ice,  a  broad  band  of 
black  water  before  us.  I  sent  MacMillan  back  with 
three  dog  teams  and  three  Eskimos  to  bring  up  the  load 
which  Kyutah  had  thrown  off  before  he  went  back  to 
the  land  with  Marvin,  and  also  to  bring  up  a  portion 
of  Borup's  cache  which  we  had  not  been  able  to  load 
on  our  sledges.  MacMillan  also  took  a  note  to  leave 
at  Kyutah's  cache,  telling  Marvin  where  we  were  held 
up,  and  urging  him  to  hurry  forward  with  all  possible 
speed.  The  remainder  of  the  party  occupied  themselves 
repairing  damaged  sledges  and  in  drying  their  clothing 
over  the  little  oil  hand  lamps. 

All  the  next  day  we  were  still  there  beside  the 
lead.  Another  day,  and  we  were  still  there.  Three,  four, 
five  days  passed  in  intolerable  inaction,  and  still  the 
broad  line  of  black  water  spread  before  us.  Those  were 
days  of  good  traveling  weather,  with  temperatures 
ranging  from  minus  5°  to  minus  32°,  a  period  of  time 


228  THENORTHPOLE 

which  might  have  carried  us  beyond  the  85th  parallel 
but  for  those  three  days  of  wind  at  the  start  which  had 
been  the  cause  of  this  obstruction  in  our  course. 

During  those  five  days  I  paced  back  and  forth, 
deploring  the  luck  which,  when  everything  else  was 
favorable  —  weather,  ice,  dogs,  men,  and  equipment  — 
should  thus  impede  our  way  with  open  water.  Bartlett 
and  I  did  not  talk  much  to  each  other  during  those  days. 
It  was  a  time  when  silence  seemed  more  expressive  than 
any  words.  We  looked  at  each  other  occasionally,  and 
I  could  see  from  the  tightening  of  Bartlett's  jaw  all  that 
I  needed  to  know  of  what  was  going  on  in  his  mind. 

Each  day  the  lead  continued  to  widen  before  us, 
and  each  day  we  looked  anxiously  southward  along 
the  trail  for  Marvin  and  Borup  to  come  up.  But  they 
did  not  come. 

Only  one  who  had  been  in  a  similar  position  could 
understand  the  gnawing  torment  of  those  days  of 
forced  inaction,  as  I  paced  the  floe  in  front  of  the  igloos 
most  of  the  time,  climbing  every  little  while  to  the  top 
of  the  ice  pinnacle  back  of  the  igloos  to  strain  my  eyes 
through  the  dim  light  to  the  south,  sleeping  through  a 
few  hours  out  of  each  twenty-four,  with  one  ear  open 
for  the  slightest  noise,  rising  repeatedly  to  listen  more 
intently  for  the  eagerly  desired  sound  of  incoming  dogs 
—  all  this  punctuated,  in  spite  of  my  utmost  efforts  at 
self-control,  with  memories  of  the  effect  of  the  delay  at 
the  "  Big  Lead  "  on  my  prospects  in  the  previous  expedi- 
tion. Altogether,  I  think  that  more  of  mental  wear 
and  tear  was  crowded  into  those  days  than  into  all 
the  rest  of  the  fifteen  months  we  were  absent  from 
civilization. 


FIRST   OPEN   WATER  229 

The  additional  supply  of  oil  and  alcohol,  which 
Marvin  and  Borup  were  to  bring  to  me,  was,  I  felt, 
vital  to  our  success;  but  even  if  they  did  not  come  in 
with  it,  I  could  not  turn  back  here.  While  pacing  the 
floe,  I  figured  out  how  we  should  use  our  sledges  piece- 
meal as  fuel  in  our  cookers,  to  make  tea  after  the  oil 
and  alcohol  were  gone.  By  the  time  the  wood  of  the 
sledges  was  exhausted,  it  would  be  warm  enough  so  that 
we  could  suck  ice  or  snow  to  assuage  our  thirst,  and  get 
along  with  our  pemmican  and  raw  dog  without  tea. 
But,  though  I  planned,  it  was  a  plan  of  desperation. 
It  was  a  harrowing  time,  that  period  of  waiting. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

SOME    OF    MY   ESKIMOS   LOSE   THEIR   NERVE 

THE  protracted  delay,  hard  as  it  was  upon  all  the 
members  of  the  expedition,  had  a  demoraliz- 
ing psychological  effect  upon  some  of  my 
Eskimos.  Toward  the  end  of  the  period  of  waiting  I 
began  to  notice  that  some  of  them  were  getting  nervous, 
I  would  see  them  talking  together  in  twos  and  threes, 
just  out  of  earshot.  Finally  two  of  the  older  men,  who 
had  been  with  me  for  years  and  whom  I  had  trusted, 
came  to  me  pretending  to  be  sick.  I  have  had  sufficient 
experience  to  know  a  sick  Eskimo  when  I  see  one,  and 
the  excuses  of  Pooadloonah  and  Panikpah  did  not 
convince  me.  I  told  them  by  all  means  to  go  back  to 
the  land  just  as  quickly  as  they  could,  and  to  take  with 
them  a  note  to  Marvin,  urging  him  to  hurry.  I  also 
sent  by  them  a  note  to  the  mate  of  the  ship,  giving 
instructions  in  regard  to  these  two  men  and  their 
families. 

As  the  days  went  by,  other  Eskimos  began  to  com- 
plain of  this  and  that  imaginary  ailment.  Two  of  them 
were  rendered  temporarily  unconscious  by  the  fumes 
of  the  alcohol  cooker  in  their  igloo,  frightening  all 
the  rest  of  the  Eskimos  half  out  of  their  wits,  and  I  was 
seriously  puzzled  as  to  what  I  should  do  with  them. 
This  was  an  illustration  of  the  fact,  which  may  not  have 
occurred  to  every  one,  that  the  leader  of  a  polar  expe- 

230 


ESKIMOS   LOSE    NERVE         231 

dition  has  sometimes  other  things  to  contend  with 
than  the  natural  conditions  of  ice  and  weather. 

On  the  9th  or  10th  we  might  possibly  have  crossed 
the  lead  on  the  young  ice,  by  taking  desperate  chances ; 
but,  considering  our  experience  of  1906,  when  we  had 
nearly  lost  our  lives  while  recrossing  the  "Big  Lead"  on 
the  undulating  ice,  and  also  considering  that  Marvin 
must  be  somewhere  near  by  this  time,  I  waited  these 
two  more  days  to  give  him  a  chance  to  catch  up. 

MacMillan  was  invaluable  to  me  during  this  period. 
Seeing  the  restlessness  of  the  Eskimos,  and  without 
waiting  for  any  suggestion  from  me,  he  gave  himself 
absolutely  to  the  problem  of  keeping  them  occupied 
and  interested  in  games  and  athletic  "stunts"  of  one 
Idnd  and  another.  This  was  one  of  those  opportunities 
which  circumstances  give  a  man  silently  to  prove  the 
mettle  of  which  he  is  made. 

On  the  evening  of  March  10,  the  lead  being  nearly 
closed,  I  gave  orders  to  get  under  way  the  next  morning. 
The  delay  had  become  unendurable,  and  I  decided  to 
take  the  chance  of  Marvin's  overtaking  us  with  the  oil 
and  alcohol. 

Of  course  there  was  the  alternative  of  my  going 
back  to  see  what  was  the  trouble.  But  that  idea  was 
dismissed.  There  was  little  attraction  in  ninety  miles 
of  extra  travel,  to  say  nothing  of  the  psychological 
effect  on  the  members  of  the  expedition. 

I  had  no  anxiety  about  the  men  themselves.  Borup, 
I  felt  sure,  had  reached  the  land  without  delay.  Mar- 
vin, if  he  had  been  held  up  temporarily  by*  the  opening 
of  the  shore  lead,  had  the  load  which  had  been  thrown 
off  by  Kudlooktoo  when  his  sledge  was  smashed,  and 


232  THENORTHPOLE 

this  load  contained  all  essential  items  of  supplies.  But 
I  could  not  believe  that  the  shore  lead  had  remained 
open  so  long. 

The  morning  of  the  11th  was  clear  and  calm,  with 
a  temperature  of  minus  40°,  which  meant  that  all  the 
open  water  was  frozen  over.  We  got  under  way  early, 
leaving  in  my  igloo  at  this  camp  the  following  note 
for  Marvin: 

4th  Camp,  March  11,  1909. 

Have  waited  here  (6)  days.  Can  wait  no  longer.  We  are 
short  of  fuel.  Push  on  with  all  possible  speed  to  overtake  us. 
Shall  leave  note  at  each  camp.  When  near  us  rush  light  sledge 
and  note  of  information  ahead  to  overhaul  us. 

Expect  send  back  Dr.  &  Eskimos  3  to  5  marches  from  here. 
He  should  meet  you  &  give  you  information. 

We  go  straight  across  this  lead  (E.  S.  E.) 

There  has  been  no  lateral  motion  of  the  ice  during  7  days. 
Only  open  and  shut.  Do  not  camp  here.  CROSS  THE  LEAD. 
Feed  full  rations  &  speed  your  dogs. 

It  is  vital  you  overtake  us  and  give  us  fuel. 

Leaving  at  9  a.m.,  Thursday,  Mar.  11. 

PEARY. 

P.S.  On  possibility  you  arrive  too  late  to  follow  us,  have 
asked  captain  take  general  material  from  your  bags. 

We  crossed  the  lead  without  trouble,  and  made  a 
fair  march  of  not  less  than  twelve  miles.  This  day  we 
crossed  seven  leads,  each  being  from  half  a  mile  to  one 
mile  in  width,  all  covered  with  barely  negotiable  young 
ice.  At  this  time  the  various  divisions,  including  Bart- 
lett's,  were  all  traveling  together. 

On  this  march  we  crossed  the  84th  parallel.  That 
night  the  ice  was  raftering  about  our  camp  with  the 


ATHLETIC  SPORTS  AT  THE  LEAD  CAMP 


PICKAXING  A  ROAD  THROUGH   ZONE  OF  ROUGH   ICE 


ESKIMOS   LOSE    NERVE         233 

movement  of  the  tide.  The  continual  grinding, 
groaning,  and  creaking,  as  the  pieces  of  ice  crunched 
together,  kept  up  all  night  long.  The  noise,  how- 
ever, did  not  keep  me  from  sleeping,  as  our  igloos 
were  on  a  heavy  ice-floe,  which  was  not  likely  itself 
to  be  broken  up,  most  of  the  ice  around  it  being 
young  and  thin. 

In  the  morning  it  was  still  clear,  and  the  tempera- 
ture was  down  to  minus  45°.  Again  we  made  a  fair 
march  of  not  less  than  twelve  nautical  miles,  crossing  in 
the  first  half  many  cracks  and  narrow  leads,  and  in  the 
latter  half  traversing  an  unbroken  series  of  old  floes.  I 
felt  confident  that  this  zone  of  numerous  leads  which  we 
had  crossed  in  the  last  two  marches  was  the  "Big 
Lead,"  and  was  of  the  opinion  that  we  were  now  safely 
across  it. 

We  hoped  that  Marvin  and  Borup,  with  their  men 
and  vital  supply  of  fuel,  would  get  across  the  "Big 
Lead"  before  we  had  any  more  wind;  for  six  hours  of  a 
good  fresh  breeze  would  utterly  obliterate  our  trail,  by 
reason  of  the  movement  of  the  ice,  and  their  search 
for  us  in  the  broad  waste  of  that  white  world  would 
have  been  like  the  proverbial  search  for  a  needle  in  a 
haystack. 

The  following  march,  on  the  13th,  was  distinctly 
crisp.  When  we  started  the  thermometer,  was  minus 
53°,  the  minimum  during  the  night  having  been  minus 
55°;  and  when  the  twilight  of  evening  came  on  it  was 
down  to  minus  59°.  With  the  bright  sunshine  at  mid- 
day, and  with  no  wind,  in  our  fur  clothing  we  did  not 
suffer  from  the  cold.  The  brandy,  of  course,  was  solid, 
the  petroleum  was  white  and  viscid,  and  the  dogs  as 


234  THENORTHPOLE 

they  traveled  were  enveloped  in  the  white  cloud  of  their 
own  breath. 

I  traveled  ahead  of  my  division  this  march,  and 
whenever  I  looked  back  could  see  neither  men  nor  dogs 
—  only  a  low-lying  bank  of  fog  glistening  like  silver  in 
the  horizontal  rays  of  the  sun  behind  it  to  the  south  — 
this  fog  being  the  steam  of  the  dog  teams  and  the  men. 

The  going  during  this  march  was  fairly  good,  except 
at  the  beginning,  where  for  about  five  miles  we  zig- 
zagged through  a  zone  of  very  rough  ice.  The  distance 
covered  was  at  least  twelve  miles.  Our  camp  that  night 
was  on  a  large  old  floe  in  the  lee  of  a  large  hummock  of 
ice  and  snow. 

Just  as  we  had  finished  building  our  igloos,  one  of 
the  Eskimos  who  was  standing  on  the  top  of  the  hum- 
mock shouted  excitedly: 

"Kling-mik-sue!  "   (Dogs  are  coming.) 

In  a  moment  I  was  on  the  hummock  beside  him. 
Looking  south  I  could  see,  a  long  distance  away,  a  little 
bank  of  silvery  white  mist  lying  on  our  trail.  Yes,  it 
was  surely  the  dogs.  A  little  later  Seegloo,  of  Borup's 
party,  dashed  up  on  a  light  sledge  drawn  by  eight  dogs, 
with  a  note  from  Marvin  containing  the  welcome  news 
that  he,  Borup,  and  their  men  had  slept  the  previous 
night  at  our  second  camp  back;  that  they  would  sleep 
the  next  night  at  our  first  camp  back,  and  catch  up  with 
us  on  the  following  day.  The  rear  party,  with  its 
precious  loads  of  oil  and  alcohol,  was  over  the  "Big 
Lead!" 

Henson  at  once  received  instructions  to  get  away 
early  the  next  morning  with  his  division  of  Eskimos  and 
sledges,  to  pioneer  the  road  for  the  next  five  marches. 


ESKIMOS   LOSE    NERVE         235 

The  doctor  was  informed  definitely  that  he  was  to 
return  to  the  land  the  next  morning  with  two  men. 
The  rest  of  the  party  would  remain  here  repairing 
sledges  and  drying  clothes  until  Marvin  and  Borup  came 
in,  when  I  could  reapiJortion  my  loads,  and  send  back 
all  superfluous  men,  dogs,  and  sledges. 

That  night,  my  mind  again  at  rest,  I  slept  like  a 
child.  In  the  morning  Henson  got  away  early  to  the 
north  with  his  pioneer  division  of  three  Eskimos,  Ootah, 
Ahwatingwah,  Koolootingwah,  and  sledges  and  teams. 
A  little  later  Dr.  Goodsell  with  two  Eskimos,  Weshar- 
koopsi  and  Arco,  one  sledge,  and  twelve  dogs  took  the 
back  trail. 

The  doctor  had  assisted  me  in  every  possible  way; 
but  his  services  in  the  field  were  gratuitous  and  were 
understood  so  to  be.  His  place  was  naturally  at  the 
ship,  where  the  greater  number  still  remained,  for  the 
moral  effect  of  his  presence  even  if  his  medical  services 
should  not  be  much  needed,  and  I  did  not  feel  justified 
in  subjecting  him  further  to  the  dangers  of  the  leads 
with  their  treacherous  young  ice.  The  latitude  where 
the  doctor  turned  back  was  about  84°  29'. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon,  March  14, 
another  cloud  of  silvery  smoke  was  seen  advancing 
along  our  trail,  and  a  little  later  Marvin  came  swinging 
in  at  the  head  of  the  rear  division,  men  and  dogs  steam- 
ing like  a  squadron  of  battle-ships,  and  bringing  in  an 
ample  supply  of  fuel.  Otherwise  his  loads  were  light, 
to  permit  rapid  traveling.  Many  times  in  the  past  had 
I  been  glad  to  see  the  true  eyes  of  Ross  Marvin,  but 
never  more  glad  than  this  time. 

The  sledges  which  were  now  repaired  were  laden  with 


236  THENORTHPOLE 

the  standard  loads  already  described,  and  I  found  that 
I  had  just  twelve.  This  left  some  men  and  dogs  over, 
so  that  it  was  not  serious  news  when  MacMillan  called 
my  attention  to  a  frosted  heel  with  which  he  had 
been  worrying  along  for  several  days  without  saying 
anything  to  any  one  about  it.  I  saw  at  once  that  the 
only  thing  for  him  to  do  was  to  turn  back. 

It  was  a  disappointment  to  me  to  lose  MacMillan  so 
early,  as  I  had  hoped  that  he  would  be  able  to  go  to  a 
comparatively  high  latitude;  but  his  disability  did  not 
affect  the  main  proposition.  I  had  ample  personnel, 
as  well  as  provisions,  sledges,  and  dogs ;  and  the  men, 
like  the  equipment,  were  interchangeable. 

Here  it  may  be  well  to  note  that,  beyond  my  saying 
to  Bartlett  at  Cape  Columbia  that  I  hoped  conditions 
might  be  such  as  to  give  me  the  benefit  of  his  energy 
and  sturdy  shoulders  to  some  point  beyond  Abruzzi's 
farthest,  no  member  of  the  party  knew  how  far  he  was 
to  go,  or  when  he  was  to  turn  back.  Yet  this  made  no 
difference  in  the  eagerness  of  their  work.  Naturally  I 
had  my  definite  program;  but  conditions  or  accidents 
might  necessitate  such  instant  and  radical  modifica- 
tions of  it  that  it  seemed  hardly  worth  while  to  make 
it  known.  Few,  if  any,  other  explorers  have  had  so 
efficient  and  congenial  a  party  as  mine  this  last  time. 
Every  man  was  glad  to  subordinate  his  own  personal 
feelings  and  ambitions  to  the  ultimate  success  of  the 
expedition. 

Marvin  made  a  sounding  about  a  half  mile  north 
of  the  camp  and  got  eight  hundred  and  twenty-five 
fathoms,  which  substantiated  my  belief  that  we  had 
crossed  the  "Big  Lead."     This  lead  probably  follows 


ESKIMOS   LOSE   NERVE  237 

the  continental  shelf  which  this  sounding  showed  to 
be  between  there  and  Camp  No.  4  (with  the  proba- 
bility of  its  being  between  Camp  Nos.  4  and  5), 
probably  at  about  the  84th  parallel.  The  continental 
shelf  is  simply  a  submerged  plateau  surrounding  all  the 
continent,  the  "Big  Lead"  marking  the  northern  edge 
of  that  shelf  where  it  dips  into  the  polar  sea. 

Monday,  March  15,  was  also  clear  and  cold,  with  a 
temperature  between  45°  and  50°  below  zero.  The 
wind  had  shifted  again  to  the  east  and  was  very  pene- 
trating. Bartlett  and  Marvin  started  off  with  the 
pickaxes  as  soon  as  they  had  finished  their  morning 
tea  and  pemmican,  and  their  divisions,  with  Borup  and 
his  division,  followed  as  soon  as  their  sledges  were 
stowed, 

MacMillan  got  away  for  Columbia  with  two 
Eskimos,  two  sledges,  and  fourteen  dogs.  The  main 
expedition  now  comprised  sixteen  men,  twelve  sledges, 
and  one  hundred  dogs.  One  sledge  had  been  broken 
up  to  repair  the  others,  three  had  been  taken  back  with 
the  returning  parties,  and  two  were  left  at  this  camp 
to  be  utilized  on  the  return.  Of  the  sledges  that  now 
went  on,  seven  were  the  new  type  of  Peary  sledge  and 
five  were  the  old  Eskimo  pattern. 

After  saying  good  by  to  MacMillan  I  followed  the 
other  three  divisions  to  the  north,  bringing  up  the  rear 
as  previously.  The  going  in  this  march  was  similar  to 
that  of  the  previous  one,  fairly  good,  as  it  was  over  the 
old  floes.  The  soreness  in  my  fractured  leg  which  had 
troubled  me  more  or  less  all  the  way  from  Cape 
Columbia  was  now  almost  entirely  gone. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  began  to  hear  loud  reports 


238  THENORTHPOLE 

and  rumblings  among  the  floes,  as  well  as  the  more 
sibilant  sound  of  the  raftering  young  ice  in  various 
directions.  This  meant  more  open  water  ahead  of  us. 
Soon  an  active  lead  cut  right  across  our  path,  and  on  the 
farther  or  northern  side  of  it  we  could  see  that  the  ice 
was  moving.  The  lead  seemed  to  narrow  toward  the 
west,  and  we  followed  it  a  little  way  until  we  came  to  a 
place  where  there  were  large  pieces  of  floating  ice,  some 
of  them  fifty  or  a  hundred  feet  across.  We  got  the  dogs 
and  sledges  from  one  piece  of  ice  to  another  —  the 
whole  forming  a  sort  of  pontoon  bridge. 

As  Borup  was  getting  his  team  across  the  open 
crack  between  two  pieces  of  floating  ice,  the  dogs  slipped 
and  went  into  the  water.  Leaping  forward,  the 
vigorous  young  athlete  stopped  the  sledge  from  follow- 
ing the  dogs,  and,  catching  hold  of  the  traces  that  fas- 
tened the  dogs  to  the  sledge,  he  pulled  them  bodily  out 
of  the  water.  A  man  less  quick  and  muscular  than 
Borup  might  have  lost  the  whole  team  as  well  as  the 
sledge  laden  with  five  hundred  pounds  of  supplies, 
which,  considering  our  position  far  out  in  that  icy 
wilderness,  were  worth  more  to  us  than  their  weight  in 
diamonds.  Of  course,  had  the  sledge  gone  in,  the 
weight  of  it  would  have  carried  the  dogs  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea.  We  drew  a  long  breath,  and,  reaching  the 
solid  ice  on  the  other  side  of  this  pontoon  bridge,  plunged 
on  to  the  north.  But  we  had  gone  only  a  short  distance 
when  right  in  front  of  us  the  ice  separated  with  loud 
reports,  forming  another  open  lead,  and  we  were 
obliged  to  camp. 

The  temperature  that  night  was  50°  below  zero; 
there  was   a  fresh    breeze   from    the    southeast  and 


ESKIMOS   LOSE   NERVE  239 

enough  moisture  in  the  open  water  close  by  us  to  give 
the  wind  a  keen  edge,  which  made  the  time  occupied 
in  building  igloos  decidedly  unpleasant.  But  we  were 
all  so  thankful  over  our  escape  from  losing  that 
imperiled  sledge  with  its  precious  load  that  personal 
discomforts  seemed  indeed  of  small  account. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

BOEUP'S   FAETHEST   NOETH 

THAT  night  was  one  of  the  noisiest  that  I 
have  ever  spent  in  an  igloo,  and  none  of  us 
slept  very  soundly.  Hour  after  hour  the 
rumbling  and  complaining  of  the  ice  continued,  and  it 
would  not  have  surprised  us  much  if  at  any  moment 
the  ice  had  split  directly  across  our  camp,  or  even 
through  the  middle  of  one  of  our  igloos.  It  was  not  a 
pleasant  situation,  and  every  member  of  the  party  was 
glad  when  the  time  came  to  get  under  way  again. 

In  the  morning  we  found  a  passage  across  the  lead 
a  short  distance  to  the  east  of  our  camp  over  some 
fragments  which  had  become  cemented  together  dur- 
ing the  cold  night.  We  had  only  gone  forward  a  few 
hundred  yards  when  we  came  upon  the  igloo  which 
Henson  had  occupied.  This  did  not  indicate  rapid 
progress. 

At  the  end  of  six  hours  we  came  upon  another  of 
Henson's  igloos  —  not  greatly  to  my  surprise.  I  knew, 
from  experience,  that  yesterday's  movement  of  the 
ice  and  the  formation  of  leads  about  us  would  take  all 
the  spirit  out  of  Henson's  party  until  the  main  party 
should  overtake  them  again.  Sure  enough,  the  next 
march  was  even  shorter.  At  the  end  of  a  little  over 
four  hours  we  found  Henson  and  his  division  in  camp, 
making  one  sledge  out  of  the  remains  of  two.    The 

240 


'■"'■'^HT.    1910      BY    FREDERICK    A.   8T0Ke3    COMPANY 


£«4^^ 


1^ 


'(!#': 


A  TYPICAL  EXAMPLE  OF  THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  AVORKING  SLEDGES  OVER 
A  PRESSURE  RIDGE 


BORUP'S  FARTHEST  NORTH  241 

damage  to  the  sledges  was  the  reason  given  for  the 
delay. 

This  march  having  been  largely  over  a  broad  zone  of 
rough  rubble  ice,  some  of  my  own  sledges  had  suffered 
slight  damage,  and  the  entire  party  was  now  halted 
and  the  sledges  were  overhauled. 

After  a  short  sleep  I  put  Marvin  ahead  to  pick 
the  trail,  with  instructions  to  try  to  make  two  long 
marches  to  bring  up  the  average. 

Marvin  got  away  very  early,  followed  a  little  later 
by  Bartlett,  Borup,  and  Henson,  with  pickaxes  to 
improve  further  the  trail  made  by  Marvin.  After  that 
came  the  sledges  of  their  divisions,  I,  as  usual,  bringing 
up  the  rear  with  my  division,  that  I  might  have  every- 
thing ahead  of  me  and  know  just  how  things  were 
going.  Marvin  gave  us  a  good  march  of  not  less  than 
seventeen  miles,  at  first  over  very  rough  ice,  then  over 
larger  and  more  level  floes,  with  a  good  deal  of  yoimg 
ice  between. 

At  the  end  of  this  march,  on  the  evening  of  the  19th, 
while  the  Eskimos  were  building  the  igloos,  I  outlined 
to  the  remaining  members  of  my  party,  Bartlett, 
Marvin,  Borup,  and  Henson,  the  program  which  I 
should  endeavor  to  follow  from  that  time  on.  At  the 
end  of  the  next  march  (which  would  be  five  marches 
from  where  MacMillan  and  the  doctor  turned  back) 
Borup  would  return  with  three  Eskimos,  twenty  dogs, 
and  one  sledge,  leaving  the  main  party  —  twelve  men, 
ten  sledges,  and  eighty  dogs.  Five  marches  farther  on 
Marvin  would  return  with  two  Eskimos,  twenty  dogs, 
and  one  sledge,  leaving  the  main  party  with  nine  men, 
seven  sledges,  and  sixty  dogs.     Five  marches  farther 


242  THENOETHPOLE 

on  Bartlett  would  return  with  two  Eskimos,  twenty 
dogs,  and  one  sledge,  leaving  the  main  party  six  men, 
forty  dogs,  and  five  sledges. 

I  hoped  that  with  good  weather,  and  the  ice  no  worse 
than  that  which  we  had  already  encountered,  Borup 
might  get  beyond  85°,  Marvin  beyond  86°,  and  Bart- 
lett beyond  87°.  At  the  end  of  each  five-march  sec- 
tion I  should  send  back  the  poorest  dogs,  the  least 
effective  Eskimos,  and  the  worst  damaged  sledges. 

As  will  appear,  this  program  was  carried  out  with- 
out a  hitch,  and  the  farthest  of  each  division  was  even 
better  than  I  had  hoped.  At  this  camp  the  supplies, 
equipment,  and  personal  gear  of  Borup  and  his  Eski- 
mos were  left  for  them  to  pick  up  on  their  way  home, 
thus  avoiding  the  transportation  of  some  two  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  out  and  back  over  the  next  march. 

The  19th  was  a  brilliant  day  of  yellow  sunlight. 
The  season  was  now  so  far  advanced  that  the  sun, 
circling  as  always  in  this  latitude  around  and  around 
the  heavens,  was  above  the  horizon  nearly  half  the 
time,  and  during  the  other  half  there  was  almost  no 
darkness  —  only  a  gray  twilight. 

The  temperature  this  day  was  in  the  minus  fifties, 
as  evidenced  by  the  frozen  brandy  and  the  steam- 
enshrouded  dogs;  but  bubbles  in  all  my  spirit  ther- 
mometers prevented  a  definite  temperature  reading. 
These  bubbles  were  caused  by  the  separation  of  the 
column,  owing  to  the  jolting  of  the  thermometer  with 
our  constant  stumbling  over  the  rough  ice  of  the  polar 
sea.  The  bubbles  might  be  removed  at  night  in  camp, 
but  this  required  some  time,  and  the  accurate  noting 
of  temperatures  during  our  six  or  seven  weeks'  march 


BORUP'S  FARTHEST  NORTH  243 

to  the  Pole  and  back  did  not  seem  sufficiently  vital 
to  our  enterprise  to  make  me  rectify  the  thermometer 
every  night.  When  I  was  not  too  tired,  I  got  the 
bubbles  out. 

Again  Marvin,  who  was  still  pioneering  the  trail, 
gave  us  a  fair  march  of  fifteen  miles  or  more,  at  first 
over  heavy  and  much-raftered  ice,  then  over  floes  of 
greater  size  and  more  level  surface.  But  the  reader 
must  understand  that  what  we  regard  as  a  level  surface 
on  the  polar  ice  might  be  considered  decidedly  rough 
going  anywhere  else. 

The  end  of  this  march  put  us  between  85°  7'  and 
85°  30',  or  about  the  latitude  of  our  "Storm  Camp" 
of  three  years  before;  but  we  were  twenty-three  days 
ahead  of  that  date,  and  in  the  matter  of  equipment, 
supplies,  and  general  condition  of  men  and  dogs  there 
was  no  comparison.  Bartlett's  estimate  of  our  posi- 
tion at  this  camp  was  85°  30',  Marvin's  85°  25',  and  my 
own  85°  20',  The  actual  position,  as  figured  back  later 
from  the  point  where  we  were  first  able,  by  reason  of 
the  increasing  altitude  of  the  sun,  to  take  an  obser- 
vation for  latitude,  was  85°  23'. 

In  the  morning  Bartlett  again  took  charge  of  the 
pioneer  division,  starting  early  with  two  Eskimos, 
sixteen  dogs,  and  two  sledges.  Borup,  a  little  later, 
with  three  Eskimos,  sixteen  dogs,  and  one  sledge, 
started  on  his  return  to  the  land. 

I  regretted  that  circumstances  made  it  expedient 
to  send  Borup  back  from  here  in  command  of  the  sec- 
ond supporting  party.  This  young  Yale  athlete  was 
a  valuable  member  of  the  expedition.  His  whole  heart 
was  in  the  work,  and  he  had  hustled  his  heavy  sledge 


244  THENORTHPOLE 

along  and  driven  his  dogs  with  almost  the  skill  of  an 
Eskimo,  in  a  way  that  commanded  the  admiration  of 
the  whole  party  and  would  have  made  his  father's 
eyes  glisten  could  he  have  seen.  But  with  all  his 
enthusiasm  for  this  kind  of  work,  he  was  still  inexperi- 
enced in  the  many  treacheries  of  the  ice;  and  I  was  not 
willing  to  subject  him  to  any  further  risks.  He  had 
also,  like  MacMillan,  frosted  one  of  his  heels. 

It  was  a  serious  disappointment  to  Borup  that  he 
was  obliged  to  turn  back;  but  he  had  reason  to  feel 
proud  of  his  work  —  even  as  I  was  proud  of  him.  He 
had  carried  the  Yale  colors  close  up  to  eighty-five  and 
a  half  degrees,  and  had  borne  them  over  as  many  miles 
of  polar  ice  as  Nansen  had  covered  in  his  entire  jour- 
ney from  his  ship  to  his  "farthest  north." 

I  can  still  see  Borup's  eager  and  bright  young  face, 
slightly  clouded  with  regret,  as  he  turned  away  at 
last  and  disappeared  with  his  Eskimos  and  steaming 
dogs  among  the  ice  hummocks  of  the  back  trail. 

A  few  minutes  after  Borup  went  south,  Henson 
with  two  Eskimos,  three  sledges,  and  twenty-four  dogs 
began  to  follow  Bartlett's  trail  to  the  north.  Marvin 
and  myself,  with  four  Eskimos,  five  sledges,  and  forty 
dogs,  were  to  remain  in  camp  twelve  hours  longer  in 
order  to  give  Bartlett  one  march  the  start  of  us.  With 
the  departure  of  Borup's  supporting  party,  the  main 
expedition  comprised  twelve  men,  ten  sledges,  and 
eighty  dogs. 

From  this  camp  on,  each  division  comprised  three 
men  instead  of  four;  but  I  did  not  reduce  the  division 
daily  allowance  of  tea,  milk,  and  alcohol.  This  meant 
a   slightly    greater   individual    consumption   of   these 


BORUP'S  FARTHEST  NORTH  245 

supplies,  but  so  long  as  we  kept  up  the  present  rate 
of  speed  I  considered  it  justified.  With  the  increasing 
appetite  caused  by  the  continuous  work,  three  men 
were  easily  able  to  consume  four  men's  tea  rations. 
The  daily  allowance  of  pemmican  and  biscuit  I  could 
not  increase.  Three  men  in  an  igloo  were  also  more 
comfortable  than  four,  and  the  smaller  igloos  just  about 
balanced  in  time  and  energy  the  lesser  number  of  men 
that  were  left  to  build  them. 

We  had  now  resumed  the  program  of  advance  party 
and  main  party,  which  had  been  interrupted  during 
the  last  two  marches.  The  now  continuous  daylight 
permitted  a  modification  of  the  previous  arrangement 
so  as  to  bring  the  two  parties  in  touch  every  twenty- 
four  hours.  The  main  party  remained  in  camp  for 
about  twelve  hours  after  the  departure  of  the  advance. 
The  advance  party  made  its  march,  camped,  and  turned 
in.  When  the  main  party  had  covered  the  march  made 
by  the  advance  party  and  arrived  at  their  igloos,  the 
advance  party  broke  out  and  started  on  while  the  main 
party  occupied  their  igloos  and  turned  in  for  sleep. 

Thus  I  was  in  touch  with  Bartlett  and  his  division 
every  twenty-four  hours,  to  make  any  changes  in  the 
loads  that  seemed  advisable,  and  to  encourage  the 
men  if  necessary.  At  this  stage  in  our  journey 
Henson's  party  traveled  with  Bartlett's  pioneer  party, 
and  Marvin  and  his  men  traveled  with  mine. 

This  arrangement  kept  the  parties  closer  together, 
relieved  the  pioneers  of  all  apprehension,  and  reduced 
by  fifty  per  cent,  the  chance  of  separation  of  the  par- 
ties by  the  opening  of  a  lead. 

Occasionally  I  found  it  advisable  to  transfer  an 


246  THENORTHPOLE 

Eskimo  from  one  division  to  another.  Sometimes, 
as  has  been  seen,  these  odd  people  are  rather  difficult 
to  manage;  and  if  Bartlett  or  any  other  member  of  the 
expedition  did  not  like  a  certain  Eskimo,  or  had  trouble 
in  managing  him,  I  would  take  that  Eskimo  into  my 
own  division,  giving  the  other  party  one  of  my  Eski- 
mos, because  I  could  get  along  with  any  of  them.  In 
other  words,  I  gave  the  other  men  their  preferences, 
taking  myself  the  men  who  were  left.  Of  course, 
when  I  came  to  make  up  my  division  for  the  final 
dash,  I  took  my  favorites  among  the  most  efficient  of 
the  Eskimos. 

At  the  next  camp  Marvin  made  a  sounding  and  to 
our  surprise  reached  bottom  at  only  three  hundred 
and  ten  fathoms,  but  in  the  process  of  reeling  up  the 
wire  it  separated,  and  the  lead  and  some  of  the  wire 
were  lost. 

Soon  after  midnight  we  got  under  way,  Marvin 
taking  a  sledge,  and  after  a  short  march  —  only  some 
ten  miles  —  we  reached  Bartlett's  camp.  He  had 
been  delayed  by  the  breaking  of  one  of  his  sledges, 
and  I  found  one  of  his  men  and  Henson's  party  still 
there  repairing  the  sledge.  Bartlett  himself  had 
gone  on,  and  Henson  and  the  other  men  got  away 
soon  after  our  arrival. 

Marvin  made  another  sounding  of  seven  hundred 
fathoms  and  no  bottom,  unfortunately  losing  two 
pickaxes  (which  had  been  used  in  place  of  a  lead)  and 
more  of  the  wire  in  hauling  it  up.  Then  we  turned  in. 
It  was  a  fine  day,  with  clear,  brilliant  sunlight,  a  fine 
breeze  from  the  north,  and  temperature  in  the  minus 
forties. 


BORUP'S  FARTHEST  NORTH  247 

The  next  march,  on  the  22d,  was  a  fair  one  of  not 
less  than  fifteen  miles.  The  going  was  at  first  tortu- 
ous, over  rough,  heavy  ice,  which  taxed  the  sledges, 
dogs,  and  drivers  to  the  utmost;  then  we  struck  a  direct 
line  across  large  and  level  floes.  At  the  end  of  this 
march  I  found  that  Bartlett  and  one  of  his  men 
had  already  left;  but  Henson  and  his  party  were 
in  their  igloo.  Ooqueah,  of  Bartlett's  party,  whose 
sledge  had  broken  down  the  day  before,  was  also 
in  camp.  I  turned  Marvin's  sledge  over  to  Ooqueah, 
so  that  Bartlett  should  have  no  further  hindrance 
in  his  work  of  pioneering,  and  started  him  and  Hen- 
son's  party  off.  The  damaged  sledge  I  turned  over 
to  Marvin,  giving  him  a  light  load.  We  were  not  with- 
out our  diflBculties  at  this  period  of  the  journey,  but 
our  plan  was  working  smoothly  and  we  were  all  hope- 
ful and  in  excellent  spirits. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


GOOD   BY   TO   MARVIN 


UP  to  this  time  no  observations  had  been 
taken.  The  altitude  of  the  sun  had  been 
so  low  as  to  make  observations  unreliable. 
Moreover,  we  were  traveling  at  a  good  clip,  and  the 
mean  estimate  of  Bartlett,  Marvin,  and  myself,  based 
on  our  previous  ice  experience,  was  sufficient  for  dead 
reckoning.  Now,  a  clear,  calm  day,  with  the  tempera- 
ture not  lower  than  minus  forty,  made  a  checking  of  our 
dead  reckoning  seem  desirable.  So  I  had  the  Eskimos 
build  a  wind  shelter  of  snow,  in  order  that  Marvin 
might  take  a  meridian  altitude  for  latitude.  I  intended 
that  Marvin  should  take  all  the  observations  up  to 
his  farthest,  and  Bartlett  all  beyond  that  to  his  farthest. 
This  was  partly  to  save  my  eyes,  but  principally  to 
have  independent  observations  with  which  to  check 
our  advance. 

The  mercury  of  the  artificial  horizon  was  thoroughly 
warmed  in  the  igloo;  a  semi-circular  wind-guard  of 
snow  blocks  two  tiers  high  was  put  up,  opening 
to  the  south;  a  musk-ox  skin  was  laid  upon  the 
snow  inside  this;  my  special  instrument  box  was 
placed  at  the  south  end  and  firmly  bedded  into  the 
snow  in  a  level  position;  the  artificial  horizon  trough, 
especially  devised  for  this  kind  of  work,  was  placed 
on  top  and  the  mercury  poured  into  it  until  it  was 

248 


MARVIN  TAKING  AN  OBSERVATION   IN  A  SNOW  SHELTER 


GOOD    BY   TO   MARVIN  249 

even  full,  when  it  was  covered  with  the  glass  horizon 
roof. 

Marvin,  then  lying  full  length  upon  his  face,  with 
his  head  to  the  south  and  both  elbows  resting  upon  the 
snow,  was  able  to  hold  the  sextant  steady  enough  to 
get  his  contact  of  the  sun's  limb  in  the  very  narrow 
strip  of  the  artificial  horizon  which  was  available.  A 
pencil  and  open  note-book  under  the  right  hand  offered 
the  means  of  noting  the  altitudes  as  they  were  obtained. 

The  result  of  Marvin's  observations  gave  our  posi- 
tion as  approximately  85°  48'  north  latitude,  figuring 
the  correction  for  refraction  only  to  a  temperature 
of  minus  10  F.,  the  lowest  temperature  for  which  we 
had  tables.  It  was  from  this  point  that,  reckoning 
twenty-five  miles  for  our  last  two  marches,  we  calcu- 
lated the  position  of  Camp  19,  where  Borup  turned 
back,  as  being  85°  23',  as  against  our  respective  dead 
reckoning  estimates  of  85°  20',  85°  25',  and  85°  30'. 
This  observation  showed  that  we  had  thus  far  averaged 
eleven  and  a  half  minutes  of  latitude  made  good  for 
each  actual  march.  Included  in  these  marches  had 
been  four  short  ones  resulting  from  causes  the  recur- 
rence of  which  I  believed  I  could  prevent  in  future. 
I  was  confident  that  if  we  were  not  interrupted  by  open 
water,  against  which  no  calculations  and  no  power  of 
man  can  prevail,  we  could  steadily  increase  this  aver- 
age from  this  time  on. 

The  next  march  was  made  in  a  temperature  of  minus 
thirty  and  a  misty  atmosphere  which  was  evidently 
caused  by  open  water  in  the  neighborhood.  About 
five  miles  from  camp  we  just  succeeded  by  the  liveliest 
work  in  getting  four  of  our  five  sledges  across  an  open- 


250  THENORTHPOLE 

ing  lead.  Getting  the  last  sledge  over  caused  a  delay 
of  a  few  hours,  as  we  had  to  cut  an  ice  raft  with  pick- 
axes to  ferry  the  sledge,  dogs,  and  Eskimo  driver 
across.  This  impromptu  ferry-boat  was  cut  on  our 
side  and  was  moved  across  the  lead  by  means  of  two 
coils  of  rope  fastened  together  and  stretching  from 
side  to  side.  When  the  cake  was  ready,  two  of  my  Eski- 
mos got  on  it,  we  threw  the  line  across  to  the  Eskimo 
on  the  other  side,  the  Eskimos  on  the  ice  raft  took 
hold  of  the  rope,  the  Eskimos  on  either  shore  held  the 
ends,  and  the  raft  was  pulled  over.  Then  the  dogs 
and  sledge  and  the  three  Eskimos  took  their  place  on 
the  ice  cake,  and  we  hauled  them  over  to  our  side. 
While  we  were  engaged  in  this  business  we  saw  a  seal 
disporting  himself  in  the  open  water  of  the  lead. 

At  the  end  of  the  next  march,  which  was  about 
fifteen  miles,  and  which  put  us  across  the  86th  parallel, 
we  reached  Bartlett's  next  camp,  where  we  found  Hen- 
son  and  his  party  in  their  igloo.  I  got  them  out  and 
under  way  at  once,  sending  by  one  of  them  a  brief 
note  of  encouragement  to  Bartlett,  telling  him  that  his 
last  camp  was  beyond  86°,  that  he  would  probably 
sleep  that  night  beyond  the  Norwegian  record,  and 
urging  him  to  speed  us  up  for  all  he  was  worth. 

In  this  march  there  was  some  pretty  heavy  going. 
Part  of  the  way  was  over  small  old  floes,  which  had 
been  broken  up  by  many  seasons  of  unceasing  conflict 
with  the  winds  and  tides.  Enclosing  these  more  or 
less  level  floes  were  heavy  pressure  ridges  over  which 
we  and  the  dogs  were  obliged  to  climb.  Often  the 
driver  of  a  heavily  loaded  sledge  would  be  forced  to 
lift  it  by  main  strength  over  some  obstruction.    Those 


GOOD    BY   TO   MARVIN  251 

who  have  pictured  us  sitting  comfortably  on  our 
sledges,  riding  over  hundreds  of  miles  of  ice  smooth 
as  a  skating  pond,  should  have  seen  us  lifting  and  tug- 
ging at  our  five-hundred-pound  sledges,  adding  our 
own  strength  to  that  of  our  dogs. 

The  day  was  hazy,  and  the  air  was  full  of  frost, 
which,  clinging  to  our  eyelashes,  almost  cemented  them 
together.  Sometimes,  in  opening  my  mouth  to  shout 
an  order  to  the  Eskimos,  a  sudden  twinge  would  cut 
short  my  words  —  my  mustache  having  frozen  to  my 
stubble  beard. 

This  fifteen  mile  march  put  us  beyond  the  Nor- 
wegian record  (86°  13'  6";  see  Nansen's  "Farthest 
North,"  Vol.  2,  page  170)  and  fifteen  days  ahead  of 
that  record.  My  leading  sledge  found  both  Bartlett 
and  Henson  in  camp;  but  they  were  off  again,  pioneer- 
ing the  trail,  before  I,  bringing  up  the  rear  as  usual, 
came  in.  Egingwah's  sledge  had  been  damaged  during 
this  march,  and  as  our  loads  could  now  be  carried  on 
four  sledges,  owing  to  what  we  had  eaten  along  the 
way,  we  broke  up  Marvin's  damaged  sledge  and  used 
the  material  in  it  for  repairing  the  other  four.  As 
Marvin  and  two  Eskimos  were  to  turn  back  from  the 
next  camp,  I  left  here  his  supplies  for  the  return  and 
part  of  his  equipment,  in  order  to  save  unnecessary 
transportation  out  and  back.  The  time  employed 
in  mending  the  sledges  and  shifting  the  loads  cut  into 
our  hours  of  sleep,  and  after  a  short  rest  of  three  hours 
we  were  again  under  way,  with  four  sledges  and  teams 
of  ten  dogs  each. 

The  next  march  was  a  good  one.  Bartlett  had 
responded  like  a  thoroughbred  to  my  urging.     Fav- 


252  THENORTHPOLE 

ored  by  good  going,  he  reeled  off  full  twenty  miles, 
notwithstanding  a  snow-storm  part  of  the  time,  which 
made  it  hard  to  see.  The  temperature,  which  varied 
from  16°  to  30°  below  zero,  indicated  that  there  was 
more  or  less  open  water  to  the  west,  from  which  direc- 
tion the  wind  came.  During  this  march  we  crossed 
several  leads  covered  with  young  ice,  treacherous 
under  the  recently  fallen  snow.  Along  the  course  of 
one  of  these  leads  we  saw  the  fresh  track  of  a  polar 
bear  going  west,  over  two  hundred  miles  from  land. 

At  half-past  ten  on  the  morning  of  the  25th  I  came 
upon  Bartlett  and  Henson  with  their  men,  all  in  camp, 
in  accordance  with  my  instructions  to  wait  for  me  at 
the  end  of  their  fifth  march.  I  turned  them  all  out, 
and  every  one  jumped  in  to  repair  the  sledges,  redis- 
tribute the  loads,  weed  out  the  least  efiicient  dogs, 
and  rearrange  the  Eskimos  in  the  remaining  divisions. 

While  this  work  was  going  on,  Marvin,  favored 
by  clear  weather,  took  another  meridian  observation 
for  latitude  and  obtained  86°  38'.  This  placed  us,  as  I 
expected,  beyond  the  Italian  record,  and  showed  that 
in  our  last  three  marches  we  had  covered  a  distance 
of  fifty  minutes  of  latitude,  an  average  of  sixteen  and 
two-thirds  miles  per  march.  We  were  thirty-two  days 
ahead  of  the  Italian  record  in  time. 

I  was  doubly  glad  of  the  result  of  the  observations, 
not  only  for  the  sake  of  Marvin,  whose  services  had 
been  invaluable  and  who  deserved  the  privilege  of 
claiming  a  higher  northing  than  Nansen  and  Abruzzi, 
but  also  for  the  honor  of  Cornell  University,  to  the 
faculty  of  which  he  belonged,  and  two  of  whose  alumni 
and  patrons  had    been    generous  contributors  to  the 


GOOD    BY   TO   MARVIN  253 

Peary  Arctic  Club.  I  had  hoped  that  Marvin  would 
be  able  to  make  a  sounding  at  his  farthest  north,  but 
there  was  no  young  ice  near  the  camp  through  which 
a  hole  could  be  made. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Bartlett,  with 
Ooqueah  and  Karko,  two  sledges,  and  eighteen  dogs, 
got  away  for  the  advance.  Bartlett  started  off  with 
the  determination  to  bag  the  88th  parallel  in  the  next 
five  marches  (after  which  he  was  to  turn  back),  and  I 
sincerely  hoped  that  he  would  be  able  to  reel  off  the 
miles  to  that  point,  as  he  certainly  deserved  such  a 
record. 

Later  I  learned  that  he  had  intended  to  cover 
twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  in  his  first  march,  which 
he  would  have  done  had  conditions  not  been  against 
him.  Though  tired  with  the  long  march  and  the  day's 
work  in  camp,  after  a  short  sleep  the  night  before,  I 
was  not  able  to  turn  in  for  several  hours  after  Bart- 
lett got  away.  There  were  numerous  details  which 
required  personal  attention.  There  were  letters  to 
write  and  orders  for  Marvin  to  take  back,  together 
with  his  instructions  for  his  projected  trip  to  Cape 
Jesup. 

The  next  morning,  Friday,  March  26, 1  rapped  the 
whole  party  up  at  five  o'clock,  after  a  good  sleep  all 
round.  As  soon  as  we  had  eaten  our  usual  breakfast 
of  pemmican,  biscuit,  and  tea,  Henson,  Ootah,  and 
Keshingwah,  with  three  sledges  and  twenty-five  dogs, 
got  away  on  Bartlett's  trail. 

Marvin,  with  Kudlooktoo  and  "Harrigan,"  one 
sledge,  and  seventeen  dogs,  started  south  at  half-past 
nine  in  the  morning. 


254  THENORTHPOLE 

No  shadow  of  apprehension  for  the  future  hung 
over  that  parting.  It  was  a  clear,  crisp  morning,  the 
sunUght  glittered  on  the  ice  and  snow,  the  dogs  were 
alert  and  active  after  their  long  sleep,  the  air  blew  cold 
and  fresh  from  the  polar  void,  and  Marvin  himself, 
though  reluctant  to  turn  back,  was  filled  with  exulta- 
tion that  he  had  carried  the  Cornell  colors  to  a  point 
beyond  the  farthest  north  of  Nansen  and  Abruzzi, 
and  that,  with  the  exception  of  Bartlett  and  myself, 
he  alone  of  all  white  men  had  entered  that  exclusive 
region  which  stretches  beyond  86°  34'  north  latitude. 

I  shall  always  be  glad  that  Marvin  marched  with 
me  during  those  last  few  days.  As  we  tramped  along 
together  we  had  discussed  the  plans  for  his  trip  to  Cape 
Jesup,  and  his  line  of  soundings  from  there  northward; 
and  as  he  turned  back  to  the  land  his  mind  was  glowing 
with  hope  for  the  future  —  the  future  which  he  was 
destined  never  to  know.     My  last  words  to  him  were: 

"Be  careful  of  the  leads,  my  boy!" 

So  we  shook  hands  and  parted  in  that  desolate 
white  waste,  and  Marvin  set  his  face  southward  toward 
his  death,  and  I  turned  again  northward  toward  the 
Pole. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


WE   BREAK  ALL   RECORDS 


BY  an  odd  coincidence,  soon  after  Marvin  left  us 
on  his  fatal  journey  from  86°  38'  back  to  land, 
the  sun  was  obscured  and  a  dull,  lead-colored 
haze  spread  over  all  the  sky.  This  grayness,  in  con- 
trast to  the  dead  white  surface  of  the  ice  and  snow 
and  the  strangely  diffused  quality  of  the  light,  gave 
an  indescribable  effect.  It  was  a  shadowless  light 
and  one  in  which  it  was  impossible  to  see  for  any 
considerable  distance. 

That  shadowless  light  is  not  unusual  on  the  ice- 
fields of  the  polar  sea;  but  this  was  the  first  occasion 
on  which  we  had  encountered  it  since  leaving  the  land. 
One  looking  for  the  most  perfect  illustration  of  the 
arctic  inferno  would  find  it  in  that  gray  light.  A 
more  ghastly  atmosphere  could  not  have  been  imag- 
ined even  by  Dante  himself  —  sky  and  ice  seeming 
utterly  wan  and  unreal. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  I  had  now  passed 
the  "farthest  north"  of  all  my  predecessors  and  was 
approaching  my  own  best  record,  with  my  eight  com- 
panions, sixty  dogs,  and  seven  fully  loaded  sledges  in 
far  better  condition  than  I  had  even  dared  to  hope, 
the  strange  and  melancholy  light  in  which  we  traveled 
on  this  day  of  parting  from  Marvin  gave  me  an  inde- 
scribably uneasy  feeling.     Man  in  his  egotism,  from 

255 


256  THENORTHPOLE 

the  most  primitive  ages  to  our  own,  has  always  imagined 
a  sympathetic  relationship  between  nature  and  the 
events  and  feelings  of  human  life.  Qo  —  in  the  light 
of  later  events  —  admitting  that  I  felt  a  peculiar  awe 
in  contemplating  the  ghastly  grayness  of  that  day,  I 
am  expressing  only  an  ineradicable  instinct  of  the  race 
to  which  I  belong. 

The  first  three-quarters  of  the  march  after  Marvin 
turned  back,  on  March  26,  the  trail  was  fortunately 
in  a  straight  line,  over  large  level  snow-covered  floes 
of  varying  height,  surrounded  by  medium-rough  old 
rafters  of  ice;  and  the  last  quarter  was  almost  entirely 
over  young  ice  averaging  about  one  foot  thick,  broken 
and  raftered,  presenting  a  rugged  and  trying  surface 
to  travel  over  in  the  uncertain  light.  Without  Bart- 
lett's  trail  to  follow,  the  march  would  have  been  even 
more  difficult. 

Near  the  end  of  the  day  we  were  again  deflected 
to  the  west  some  distance  by  an  open  lead.  Whenever 
the  temperature  rose  as  high  as  minus  15°,  where  it  had 
stood  at  the  beginning  of  the  day,  we  were  sure  of 
encountering  open  water.  But  just  before  we  reached 
the  camp  of  Bartlett's  pioneer  division,  the  gray  haze 
in  which  we  had  traveled  all  day  lifted,  and  the  sun 
came  out  clear  and  brilliant.  The  temperature  had 
also  dropped  to  minus  20°.  Bartlett  was  just  starting 
out  again  when  I  arrived,  and  we  agreed  that  we  had 
made  a  good  fifteen  miles  in  the  last  march. 

The  next  day,  March  27,  was  a  brilliant  dazzling 
day  of  arctic  sunshine,  the  sky  a  glittering  blue,  and  the 
ice  a  glittering  white,  which,  but  for  the  smoked  goggles 
worn  by  every  member  of  the  party,  would  certainly 


WE   BREAK  ALL   RECORDS      257 

have  given  some  of  us  an  attack  of  snow  blindness. 
From  the  time  when  the  reappearing  sun  of  the  arctic 
spring  got  well  above  the  horizon,  these  goggles  had 
been  worn  continuously. 

The  temperature  during  this  march  dropped  from 
minus  30°  to  minus  40°,  there  was  a  biting  northeasterly 
breeze,  and  the  dogs  traveled  forward  in  their  own  white 
cloud  of  steam.  On  the  polar  ice  we  gladly  hail  the 
extreme  cold,  as  higher  temperatures  and  light  snow 
always  mean  open  water,  danger,  and  delay.  Of 
course,  such  minor  incidents  as  frosted  and  bleeding 
cheeks  and  noses  we  reckon  as  part  of  the  great  game. 
Frosted  heels  and  toes  are  far  more  serious,  because 
they  lessen  a  man's  ability  to  travel,  and  traveling  is 
what  we  are  there  for.  Mere  pain  and  inconvenience 
are  inevitable,  but,  on  the  whole,  inconsiderable. 

This  march  was  by  far  the  hardest  for  some  days. 
At  first  there  was  a  continuation  of  the  broken  and 
raftered  ice,  sharp  and  jagged,  that  at  times  seemed 
almost  to  cut  through  our  sealskin  kamiks  and  hare- 
skin  stockings,  to  pierce  our  feet.  Then  we  struck 
heavy  rubble  ice  covered  with  deep  snow,  through  which 
we  had  literally  to  plow  our  way,  lifting  and  steadying 
the  sledges  until  our  muscles  ached. 

During  the  day  we  saw  the  tracks  of  two  foxes  in 
this  remote  and  icy  wilderness,  nearly  two  hundred 
and  forty  nautical  miles  beyond  the  northern  coast 
of  Grant  Land. 

Finally  we  came  upon  Bartlett's  camp  in  a  maze 
of  small  pieces  of  very  heavy  old  floes  raftered  in  every 
direction.  He  had  been  in  his  igloo  but  a  short  time, 
and  his  men  and  dogs  were  tired  out  and  temporarily 


258  THENORTHPOLE 

discouraged  by  the  heart-racking  work  of  making  a 
road. 

I  told  him  to  take  a  good  long  sleep  before  getting 
under  way  again;  and  while  my  men  were  building 
the  igloos,  I  lightened  the  loads  of  Bartlett's  sledges 
about  one  hundred  pounds,  to  put  them  in  better 
trim  for  pioneering  in  this  rough  going.  The  added 
weight  would  be  less  burdensome  on  our  own  sledges 
than  on  his.  Notwithstanding  the  crazy  road  over 
which  we  had  traveled,  this  march  netted  us  twelve 
good  miles  toward  the  goal. 

We  were  now  across  the  87th  parallel  and  into  the 
region  of  perpetual  daylight,  as  the  sun  had  not  set 
during  the  last  march.  The  knowledge  that  we  had 
crossed  the  87th  parallel  with  men  and  dogs  in  good 
condit  on,  and  plenty  of  supplies  upon  the  sledges, 
sent  me  to  sleep  that  night  with  a  light  heart.  Only 
about  six  miles  beyond  this  point,  at  87°  6',  I  had  been 
obliged  to  turn  back  nearly  three  years  before,  with 
exhausted  dogs,  depleted  supplies,  and  a  heavy  and 
discouraged  heart.  It  seemed  to  me  then  that  the 
story  of  my  life  was  told  and  that  the  word  failure 
was  stamped  across  it. 

Now,  three  years  older,  with  three  more  years  of 
the  inevitable' wear  and  tear  of  this  inexorable  game 
behind  me,  I  stood  again  beyond  the  87th  parallel 
still  reaching  forward  to  that  goal  which  had  beckoned 
to  me  for  so  many  years.  Even  now,  on  reaching  my 
highest  record  with  every  prospect  good,  I  dared  not 
build  too  much  on  the  chances  of  the  white  and  treach- 
erous ice  which  stretched  one  hundred  and  eighty 
nautical  miles  northward  between  me  and  the  end.    I 


WE   BREAK   ALL   RECORDS     259 

had  believed  for  years  that  this  thing  could  be  done 
and  that  it  was  my  destiny  to  do  it,  but  I  always 
reminded  myself  that  many  a  man  had  felt  thus  about 
some  dearly  wished  achievement,  only  to  fail  in  the 
end. 

When  I  awoke  the  following  day,  March  28,  the  sky 
was  brilliantly  clear;  but  ahead  of  us  there  was  a  thick, 
smoky,  ominous  haze  drifting  low  over  the  ice,  and  a 
bitter  northeast  wind,  which,  in  the  orthography  of  the 
Arctic,  plainly  spelled  open  water.  Did  this  mean 
failure  again?  No  man  could  say.  Bartlett  had, 
of  course,  left  camp  and  taken  to  the  trail  again  long 
before  I  and  the  men  of  my  division  were  awake. 
This  was  in  accordance  with  my  general  plan,  previ- 
ously outlined,  that  the  pioneer  division  should  be  trav- 
eling while  the  main  division  slept,  and  vice  versa,  so 
that  the  two  divisions  might  be  in  communication 
every  day. 

After  traveling  at  a  good  rate  for  six  hours  along 
Bartlett's  trail,  we  came  upon  his  camp  beside  a 
wide  lead,  with  a  dense,  black,  watery  sky  to  the  north- 
west, north,  and  northeast,  and  beneath  it  the  smoky 
fog  which  we  had  been  facing  all  day  long.  In  order 
not  to  disturb  Bartlett,  we  camped  a  hundred  yards 
distant,  put  up  our  igloos  as  quietly  as  possible,  and 
turned  in,  after  our  usual  supper  of  pemmican,  biscuit, 
and  tea.  We  had  made  some  twelve  miles  over  much 
better  going  than  that  of  the  last  few  marches  and  on 
a  nearly  direct  line  over  large  floes  and  young  ice. 

I  was  just  dropping  off  to  sleep  when  I  heard  the 
ice  creaking  and  groaning  close  by  the  igloo,  but  as 
the  commotion  was  not  excessive,  nor  of  long  duration. 


260  THENORTHPOLE 

I  attributed  it  to  the  pressure  from  the  closing  of  the 
lead  which  was  just  ahead  of  us;  and  after  satisfying 
myself  that  my  mittens  were  where  I  could  get  them 
instantly,  in  an  emergency,  I  rolled  over  on  my  bed 
of  deerskins  and  settled  myself  to  sleep.  I  was  just 
drowsing  again  when  I  heard  some  one  yelling  excitedly 
outside. 

Leaping  to  my  feet  and  looking  through  the  peep- 
hole of  our  igloo,  I  was  startled  to  see  a  broad  lead  of 
black  water  between  our  two  igloos  and  Bartlett's, 
the  nearer  edge  of  water  being  close  to  our  entrance; 
and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  lead  stood  one  of 
Bartlett's  men  yelling  and  gesticulating  with  all  the 
abandon  of  an  excited,  and  thoroughly  frightened 
Eskimo. 

Awakening  my  men,  I  kicked  our  snow  door  into 
fragments  and  was  outside  in  a  moment.  The  break 
in  the  ice  had  occurred  within  a  foot  of  the  fastening 
of  one  of  my  dog  teams,  the  team  escaping  by  just 
those  few  inches  from  being  dragged  into  the  water. 
Another  team  had  just  escaped  being  buried  under  a 
pressure  ridge,  the  movement  of  the  ice  having  provi- 
dentially stopped  after  burying  the  bight  which  held 
their  traces  to  the  ice.  Bartlett's  igloo  was  moving 
east  on  the  ice  raft  which  had  broken  oflF,  and  beyond 
it,  as  far  as  the  belching  fog  from  the  lead  would  let 
us  see,  there  was  nothing  but  black  water.  It  looked 
as  if  the  ice  raft  which  carried  Bartlett's  division 
would  impinge  against  our  side  a  little  farther  on,  and 
I  shouted  to  his  men  to  break  camp  and  hitch  up 
their  dogs  in  a  hurry,  in  readiness  to  rush  across  to 
us  should  the  opportunity  present  itself. 


WE   BREAK  ALL   RECORDS     261 

Then  I  turned  to  consider  our  own  position.  Our 
two  igloos,  Benson's  and  mine,  were  on  a  small  piece 
of  old  floe,  separated  by  a  crack  and  a  low  pressure 
ridge,  a  few  yards  away,  from  a  large  floe  lying  to  the 
west  of  us.  It  was  clear  that  it  would  take  very  little 
strain  or  pressure  to  detach  us  and  set  us  afloat  also 
like  Bartlett's  division. 

I  routed  Henson  and  his  men  out  of  their  igloo, 
gave  orders  to  everybody  to  pack  and  hitch  up  imme- 
diately, and,  while  this  was  being  done,  leveled  a  path 
across  the  crack  to  the  big  floe  at  the  west  of  us.  This 
was  done  with  a  pickax,  leveling  the  ice  down  into 
the  crack,  so  as  to  make  a  continuous  surface  over 
which  the  sledges  could  pass.  As  soon  as  the  loads 
were  across  and  we  were  safe  on  the  floe,  we  all  went  to 
the  edge  of  the  lead  and  stood  ready  to  assist  Bart- 
lett's men  in  rushing  their  sledges  across  the  moment 
their  ice  raft  should  touch  our  side. 

Slowly  the  raft  drifted  nearer  and  nearer,  until 
the  side  of  it  crunched  against  the  floe.  The  two  edges 
being  fairly  even,  the  raft  lay  alongside  us  as  a  boat 
lies  against  a  wharf,  and  we  had  no  trouble  in  getting 
Bartlett's  men  and  sledges  across  and  onto  the  floe 
with  us. 

Though  there  is  always  a  possibility  that  a  lead 
may  open  directly  across  a  floe  as  large  as  this  one, 
we  could  not  waste  our  sleeping  hours  in  sitting  up  to 
watch  for  it.  Our  former  igloos  being  lost  to  us,  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  build  another  set  and  turn  in 
immediately.  It  goes  without  saying  that  this  extra 
work  was  not  particularly  agreeable.  That  night  we 
slept  with  our  mittens  on,  ready  at  a  moment's  notice 


262  THENORTHPOLE 

for  anything  that  might  happen.  Had  a  new  lead 
formed  directly  across  the  sleeping  platform  of  our  igloo, 
precipitating  us  into  the  icy  water,  we  should  not  have 
been  surprised  after  the  first  shock  of  the  cold  bath, 
but  should  have  clambered  out,  scraping  the  water  off 
our  fur  garments,  and  made  ready  for  the  next  move 
on  the  part  of  our  treacherous  antagonist  —  the  ice. 

Notwithstanding  the  extra  fatigue  and  the  pre- 
carious position  of  our  camp,  this  last  march  had  put 
us  well  beyond  my  record  of  three  years  before,  prob- 
ably 87°  12',  so  that  I  went  to  sleep  with  the  satisfac- 
tion of  having  at  last  beaten  my  own  record,  no  matter 
what  the  morrow  might  bring  forth. 

The  following  day,  March  29,  was  not  a  happy  one 
for  us.  Though  we  were  all  tired  enough  to  rest,  we 
did  not  enjoy  picnicking  beside  this  arctic  Phlegethon, 
which,  hour  after  hour,  to  the  north,  northeast,  and 
northwest,  seemed  to  belch  black  smoke  like  a  prairie 
fire.  So  dense  was  this  cloud  caused  by  the  condensa- 
tion of  the  vapor  and  the  reflection  in  it  of  the  black 
water  below  that  we  could  not  see  the  other  shore  of 
the  lead  —  if,  indeed,  it  had  a  northern  shore.  As 
far  as  the  evidence  of  our  senses  went,  we  might  be 
encamped  on  the  edge  of  that  open  polar  sea  which 
myth-makers  have  imagined  as  forever  barring  the 
way  of  man  to  the  northern  end  of  the  earth's  axis. 
It  was  heart-breaking,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
wait.  After  breakfast  we  overhauled  the  sledges  and 
made  a  few  repairs,  dried  out  some  of  our  garments 
over  the  little  oil  lamps  which  we  carried  for  that  pur- 
pose, and  Bartlett  made  a  sounding  of  1,260  fathoms, 
but  found  no  bottom.    He  did  not  let  all  the  line  go  out, 


WE   BREAK   ALL   RECORDS     263 

fearing  there  might  be  a  defect  in  the  wire  which  would 
losi  us  more  of  it,  as  we  were  desirous  of  keeping  all 
that  we  had  for  a  sounding  at  our  "farthest  north," 
which  we  hoped  would  be  at  the  Pole  itself.  I  had 
only  one  sounding  lead  now  left,  and  I  would  not  let 
Bartlett  risk  it  at  this  point,  but  had  him  use  a  pair 
of  sledge  shoes  (brought  along  for  this  very  purpose 
from  the  last  broken  up  sledge)  to  carry  the  line  down. 
When  our  watches  told  us  that  it  was  bedtime  — 
for  we  were  now  in  the  period  of  perpetual  sunlight  — 
we  again  turned  into  the  igloos  which  had  been  hur- 
riedly built  after  our  exciting  experience  the  night 
before.  A  low  murmur  as  of  distant  surf  was  issuing 
from  the  blackness  ahead  of  us,  and  steadily  growing 
in  volume.  To  the  inexperienced  it  might  have  seemed 
an  ominous  sound,  but  to  us  it  was  a  cheering  thing 
because  we  knew  it  meant  the  narrowing,  and  perhaps 
the  closing,  of  the  stretch  of  open  water  that  barred 
our  way.  So  we  slept  happily  in  our  frosty  huts  that 
"night." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

BABTLETT   REACHES   87°   47' 

OUR  hopes  were  soon  realized,  for  at  one  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  March  30,  when  I  awoke 
and  looked  at  my  watch,  the  murmur  from 
the  closing  lead  had  increased  to  a  hoarse  roar,  punc- 
tuated with  groans  and  with  reports  like  those  of  rifles, 
dying  away  to  the  east  and  west  like  the  sounds  from 
a  mighty  firing  line.  Looking  through  the  peephole, 
I  saw  that  the  black  curtain  had  thinned  so  that  I 
could  see  through  it  to  another  similar,  though  blacker, 
curtain  behind,  indicating  still  another  lead  further  on. 
At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  temperature 
was  down  to  minus  30°,  with  a  bitter  northwest  breeze. 
The  grinding  and  groaning  of  the  ice  had  ceased, 
and  the  smoke  and  haze  had  disappeared,  as  is  usual 
when  a  lead  closes  up  or  freezes  over.  We  rushed 
across  before  the  ice  should  open  again.  All  this  day 
we  traveled  together,  Bartlett's  division,  Henson's, 
and  mine,  constantly  crossing  narrow  lanes  of  young 
ice,  which  had  only  recently  been  open  water.  Dur- 
ing this  march  we  had  to  cross  a  lake  of  young  ice  some 
six  or  seven  miles  across  —  so  thin  that  the  ice  buckled 
under  us  as  we  rushed  on  at  full  speed  for  the  other 
side.  We  did  our  best  to  make  up  for  the  previous 
day's  delay,  and  when  we  finally  camped  on  a  heavy 
old  floe  we  had  made  a  good  twenty  miles. 

264 


CAMP  AT  85°  48'  NORTH,   MARCH  22,    1909 


A  MOMENTARY   HALT  IX  THE  LEE  OF  A   BIG   HUMJIOCK  NORTH  OF  88° 


BARTLETT   REACHES   87°   47'     265 

The  entire  region  through  which  we  had  come 
during  the  last  four  marches  was  full  of  unpleasant 
possibilities  for  the  future.  Only  too  well  we  knew 
that  violent  winds  for  even  a  few  hours  would  set  the 
ice  all  abroad  in  every  direction.  Crossing  such  a  zone 
on  a  journey  north  is  only  half  the  problem,  for  there 
is  always  the  return  to  be  figured  on.  Though  the 
motto  of  the  Arctic  must  be,  "Sufficient  unto  the  day 
is  the  evil  thereof,"  we  ardently  hoped  there  might 
not  be  violent  winds  until  we  were  south  of  this  zone 
again  on  the  return. 

The  next  march  was  to  be  Bartlett's  last,  and  he 
let  himself  out  to  do  his  best.  The  going  was  fairly 
good,  but  the  weather  was  thick.  There  was  a  strong 
northerly  wind  blowing  full  in  our  faces,  bitter  and 
insistent,  and  the  temperature  was  in  the  minus  thir- 
ties. But  this  northerly  wind,  though  hard  to  struggle 
against,  was  better  than  an  easterly  or  westerly  one, 
either  of  which  would  have  set  us  adrift  in  open  water, 
while,  as  it  was,  the  wind  was  closing  up  every  lead 
behind  us  and  thus  making  things  easier  for  Bartlett's 
supporting  party  on  its  return.  True,  the  wind 
pressure  was  forcing  to  the  south  the  ice  over  which 
we  traveled,  and  thus  losing  us  miles  of  distance;  but 
the  advantage  of  frozen  leads  was  more  than  compensa- 
tion for  this  loss. 

So  good  was  Bartlett's  pace  during  the  last  half 
of  the  march  that  if  I  stopped  an  instant  for  any 
purpose  I  had  to  jump  on  a  sledge  or  run,  to  catch  up, 
and  during  the  last  few  miles  I  walked  beside  Bartlett 
in  advance.  He  was  very  sober  and  anxious  to 
go  further;  but  the  program  was  for  him  to  go  back 


266  THENORTHPOLE 

from  here  in  command  of  the  fourth  supporting  party, 
and  we  did  not  have  supplies  enough  for  an  increase 
in  the  main  party.  The  food  which  he  and  his  two 
Eskimos  and  dog  teams  would  have  consumed  between 
this  point  and  the  Pole,  on  the  upward  and  return 
journeys,  might  mean  that  we  would  all  starve  before 
we  could  reach  the  land  again. 

Had  it  been  clear  we  should  undoubtedly  have  cov- 
ered twenty-five  miles  in  this  march;  but  it  is  difficult 
to  break  a  trail  in  thick  weather  as  rapidly  as  in  clear, 
and  this  day  netted  us  only  twenty  miles.  We  knew 
that  if  we  were  not  on  or  close  to  the  88th  parallel 
at  the  end  of  this  march,  it  would  be  because  the  north- 
ern winds  of  the  past  two  days  had  set  the  ice  south, 
crushing  up  the  young  ice  in  the  leads  between  us  and 
the  land. 

The  sun  came  out  just  as  we  were  preparing  to 
camp,  and  it  looked  as  if  we  should  have  clear  weather 
the  next  day  for  Bartlett's  meridian  observations  at 
his  "farthest  north." 

When  our  igloos  were  built,  I  told  the  two  Eskimos, 
Keshingwah  and  Karko,  that  they  were  to  go  back 
with  the  captain  the  next  day;  so  they  could  get  their 
clothes  as  dry  as  possible,  as  they  probably  would  not 
have  time  to  dry  them  on  the  forced  march  home. 
Bartlett  was  to  return  with  these  two  Eskimos,  one 
sledge,  and  eighteen  dogs. 

After  about  four  hours'  sleep,  I  turned  everyone 
out  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  wind  had 
blown  violently  from  the  north  all  night,  and  still 
continued. 

After  breakfast  Bartlett  started  to  walk  five  or 


BARTLETT   REACHES   8  7°  4  7'  267 

six  miles  to  the  north  in  order  to  make  sure  of  reaching 
the  88th  parallel.  On  his  return  he  was  to  take  a  merid- 
ian observation  to  determine  our  position.  While 
he  was  gone  I  culled  the  best  dogs  from  his  teams, 
replacing  them  with  the  poorer  dogs  from  the  teams  of 
the  main  party.  The  dogs  were  on  the  whole  in  very 
good  condition,  far  better  than  on  any  of  my  previous 
expeditions,  I  had  been  throwing  the  brunt  of  the 
dragging  on  the  poorest  dogs,  those  that  I  judged  were 
going  to  fail,  so  as  to  keep  the  best  dogs 'fresh  for  the 
final  spurt. 

My  theory  was  to  work  the  supporting  parties  to 
the  limit,  in  order  to  keep  the  main  party  fresh;  and 
those  men  who  I  expected  from  the  beginning  would 
form  the  main  party  at  the  last  had  things  made  as 
easy  as  possible  for  them  all  the  way  up.  Ootah,  Hen- 
son  and  Egingwah  were  in  this  group.  Whenever  I  could 
do  so  I  had  eased  their  loads  for  them,  giving  them  the 
best  dogs,  and  keeping  the  poorest  dogs  with  the  teams 
of  those  Eskimos  who  I  knew  were  going  back.  It 
was  a  part  of  the  deliberate  plan  to  work  the  support- 
ing parties  as  hard  as  possible,  in  order  to  keep  the  main 
party  fresh  up  to  the  farthest  possible  point. 

From  the  beginning  there  were  certain  Eskimos 
who,  I  knew,  barring  some  unforeseen  accident,  would 
go  to  the  Pole  with  me.  There  were  others  who  were 
assigned  not  to  go  anywhere  near  there,  and  others 
who  were  available  for  either  course.  If  any  accidents 
occurred  to  those  men  whom  I  had  originally  chosen, 
I  planned  to  fill  their  places  with  the  next  best  ones 
who  were  all  willing  to  go. 

On  Bartlett's  return  the  Eskimos  built  the  usual 


268  THENORTHPOLE 

wind  shelter  already  described,  and  Bartlett  took  a 
latitude  observation,  getting  87°  46'  49". 

Bartlett  was  naturally  much  disappointed  to 
find  that  even  with  his  five-mile  northward  march  of 
the  morning  he  was  still  short  of  the  88th  parallel. 
Our  latitude  was  the  direct  result  of  the  northerly 
wind  of  the  last  two  days,  which  had  crowded  the  ice 
southward  as  we  traveled  over  it  northward.  We 
had  traveled  fully  twelve  miles  more  than  his  obser- 
vation showed  in  the  last  five  marches,  but  had  lost 
them  by  the  crushing  up  of  the  young  ice  in  our  rear 
and  the  closing  of  the  leads, 

Bartlett  took  the  observations  here,  as  had  Marvin 
five  camps  back  partly  to  save  my  eyes  and  partly  to 
have  independent  observations  by  different  members 
of  the  expedition.  When  the  calculations  were  com- 
pleted, two  copies  were  made,  one  for  Bartlett  and  one 
for  me,  and  he  got  ready  to  start  south  on  the  back 
trail  in  command  of  my  fourth  supporting  party, 
with  his  two  Eskimos,  one  sledge,  and  eighteen  dogs. 

I  felt  a  keen  regret  as  I  saw  the  captain's  broad 
shoulders  grow  smaller  in  the  distance  and  finally  dis- 
appear behind  the  ice  hummocks  of  the  white  and 
glittering  expanse  toward  the  south.  But  it  was  no 
time  for  reverie,  and  I  turned  abruptly  away  and  gave 
my  attention  to  the  work  which  was  before  me.  I  had 
no  anxiety  about  Bartlett.  I  knew  that  I  should  see 
him  again  at  the  ship.  My  work  was  still  ahead,  not 
in  the  rear.  Bartlett  had  been  invaluable  to  me, 
and  circumstances  had  thrust  upon  him  the  brunt  of 
the  pioneering  instead  of  its  being  divided  among 
several,  as  I  had  originally  planned. 


BARTLETT   REACHES    87°   47'    269 

Though  he  was  naturally  disappointed  at  not  having 
reached  the  88th  parallel,  he  had  every  reason  to  be 
proud,  not  only  of  his  work  in  general,  but  that  he  had 
surpassed  the  Italian  record  by  a  degree  and  a  quarter. 
I  had  given  him  the  post  of  honor  in  command  of  my 
last  supporting  party  for  three  reasons:  first,  because 
of  his  magnificent  handling  of  the  Roosevelt;  second, 
because  he  had  cheerfully  and  gladly  stood  between  me 
and  every  possible  minor  annoyance  from  the  start 
of  the  expedition  to  that  day;  third,  because  it  seemed 
to  me  right  that,  in  view  of  the  noble  work  of  Great 
Britain  in  arctic  exploration,  a  British  subject  should, 
next  to  an  American,  be  able  to  say  that  he  had  stood 
nearest  the  North  Pole. 

With  the  departure  of  Bartlett,  the  main  party 
now  consisted  of  my  own  division  and  Henson's.  My 
men  were  Egingwah  and  Seegloo;  Henson's  men  were 
Ootah  and  Ooqueah.  We  had  five  sledges  and  forty 
dogs,  the  pick  of  one  hundred  and  forty  with  which 
we  had  left  the  ship.  With  these  we  were  ready  now 
for  the  final  lap  of  the  journey. 

We  were  now  one  hundred  and  thirty-three  nauti- 
cal miles  from  the  Pole.  Pacing  back  and  forth  in 
the  lee  of  the  pressure  ridge  near  which  our  igloos 
were  built,  I  made  out  my  program.  Every  nerve 
must  be  strained  to  make  five  marches  of  at  least 
twenty-five  miles  each,  crowding  these  marches  in 
such  a  way  as  to  bring  us  to  the  end  of  the  fifth 
march  by  noon,  to  permit  an  immediate  latitude 
observation.  Weather  and  leads  permitting,  I  be- 
heved  that  I  could  do  this.  From  the  improving 
character  of  the  ice,  and  in  view  of  the  recent  northerly 


270  THENORTHPOLE 

winds,  I  hoped  that  I  should  have  no  serious  trouble 
with  the  going. 

If  for  any  reason  I  fell  short  of  these  proposed  dis- 
tances, I  had  two  methods  in  reserve  for  making  up 
the  deficit.  One  was  to  double  the  last  march  —  that 
is,  make  a  good  march,  have  tea  and  a  hearty  lunch, 
rest  the  dogs  a  little,  and  then  go  on  again,  without 
sleep.  The  other  was,  at  the  conclusion  of  my  fifth 
march,  to  push  on  with  one  light  sledge,  a  double  team 
of  dogs,  and  one  or  two  of  the  party,  leaving  the  rest 
in  camp.  Even  should  the  going  be  worse  than  was 
then  anticipated,  eight  marches  like  the  three  from 
85°  48'  to  86°  38',  or  six  similar  to  our  last  one,  would 
do  the  trick. 

Underlying  all  these  calculations  was  the  ever- 
present  knowledge  that  a  twenty -fours'  gale  would  open 
leads  of  water  which  might  be  impassable,  and  that  all 
these  plans  would  be  negatived. 

As  I  paced  to  and  fro,  making  out  my  plans,  I 
remembered  that  three  years  ago  that  day  we  had 
crossed  the  "big  lead"  on  our  way  north,  April  1, 
1906.  A  comparison  of  conditions  now  and  then  filled 
me  with  hope  for  the  future. 

This  was  the  time  for  which  I  had  reserved  all  my 
energies,  the  time  for  which  I  had  worked  for  twenty- 
two  years,  for  which  I  had  lived  the  simple  life  and 
trained  myself  as  for  a  race.  In  spite  of  my  years,  I 
felt  fit  for  the  demands  of  the  coming  days  and  was 
eager  to  be  on  the  trail.  As  for  my  party,  my  equip- 
ment, and  my  supplies,  they  were  perfect  beyond  my 
most  sanguine  dreams  of  earher  years.  My  party 
might  be  regarded  as  an  ideal  which  had  now  come  to 


0( 


in  i 

f-   o 


0  S 


in  3 

0^ 


BARTLETT   REACHES   87°   47'    271 

realization  —  as  loyal  and  responsive  to  my  will  as 
the  fingers  of  my  right  hand. 

My  four  Eskimos  carried  the  technic  of  dogs, 
sledges,  ice,  and  cold  as  their  racial  heritage.  Henson 
and  Ootah  had  been  my  companions  at  the  farthest 
point  on  the  expedition  three  years  before.  Egingwah 
and  Seegloo  had  been  in  Clark's  division,  which  had 
such  a  narrow  escape  at  that  time,  having  been  obliged 
for  several  days  to  subsist  upon  their  sealskin  boots, 
all  their  other  food  being  gone. 

And  the  fifth  was  young  Ooqueah,  who  had  never 
before  served  in  any  expedition;  but  who  was,  if  pos- 
sible, even  more  willing  and  eager  than  the  others  to 
go  with  me  wherever  I  should  elect.  For  he  was  always 
thinking  of  the  great  treasures  which  I  had  promised 
each  of  the  men  who  should  go  to  the  farthest  point 
with  me  —  whale-boat,  rifle,  shotgun,  ammunition, 
knives,  et  cetera  —  wealth  beyond  the  wildest  dreams 
of  Eskimos,  which  should  win  for  him  the  daughter  of 
old  Ikwa  of  Cape  York,  on  whom  he  had  set  his  heart. 

All  these  men  had  a  blind  confidence  that  I  would 
somehow  get  them  back  to  land.  But  I  recognized 
fully  that  all  the  impetus  of  the  party  centered  in  me. 
Whatever  pace  I  set,  the  others  would  make  good; 
but  if  I  played  out,  they  would  stop  like  a  car  with  a 
punctured  tire.  I  had  no  fault  to  find  with  the  condi- 
tions, and  I  faced  them  with  confidence. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


THE   FINAL   SPURT   BEGUN 


AT  this  time  it  may  be  appropriate  to  say  a 
word  regarding  my  reasons  for  selecting 
Henson  as  my  fellow  traveler  to  the  Pole 
itself.  In  this  selection  I  acted  exactly  as  I  have  done 
on  all  my  expeditions  for  the  last  fifteen  years.  He 
has  in  those  years  always  been  with  me  at  my  point 
farthest  north.  Moreover,  Henson  was  the  best  man 
I  had  with  me  for  this  kind  of  work,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Eskimos,  who,  with  their  racial  inheritance 
of  ice  technic  and  their  ability  to  handle  sledges  and 
dogs,  were  more  necessary  to  me,  as  members  of  my  own 
individual  party,  than  any  white  man  could  have  been. 
Of  course  they  could  not  lead,  but  they  could  follow 
and  drive  dogs  better  than  any  white  man. 

Henson,  with  his  years  of  arctic  experience,  was 
almost  as  skilful  at  this  work  as  an  Eskimo.  He 
could  handle  dogs  and  sledges.  He  was  a  part  of  the 
traveling  machine.  Had  I  taken  another  member  of 
the  expedition  also,  he  would  have  been  a  passenger, 
necessitating  the  carrying  of  extra  rations  and  other 
impedimenta.  It  would  have  amounted  to  an  addi- 
tional load  on  the  sledges,  while  the  taking  of  Henson 
was  in  the  interest  of  economy  of  weight. 

The  second  reason  was  that  while  Henson  was  more 
useful  to  me  than  any  other  member  of  my  expedition 

272 


FINAL   SPURT   BEGUN  273 

when  it  came  to  traveling  with  my  last  party  over  the 
polar  ice,  he  would  not  have  been  so  competent  as  the 
white  members  of  the  ejcpedition  in  getting  himself 
and  his  party  back  to  the  land.  If  Henson  had  been 
sent  back  with  one  of  the  supporting  parties  from  a 
distance  far  out  on  the  ice,  and  if  he  had  encountered 
conditions  similar  to  those  which  we  had  to  face  on 
the  return  journey  in  1906,  he  and  his  party  would 
never  have  reached  the  land.  While  faithful  to  me, 
and  when  with  me  more  effective  in  covering  distance 
with  a  sledge  than  any  of  the  others,  he  had  not,  as  a 
racial  inheritance,  the  daring  and  initiative  of  Bartlett, 
or  Marvin,  MacMillan,  or  Borup.  I  owed  it  to  him 
not  to  subject  him  to  dangers  and  responsibilities  which 
he  was  temperamentally  unfit  to  face. 

As  to  the  dogs,  most  of  them  were  powerful  males, 
as  hard  as  iron,  in  good  condition,  but  without  an  ounce 
of  superfluous  fat;  and,  by  reason  of  the  care  which  I 
had  taken  of  them  up  to  this  point,  they  were  all  in 
good  spirits,  like  the  men.  The  sledges,  which  were 
being  repaired  that  day,  were  also  in  good  condition. 
My  food  and  fuel  supplies  were  ample  for  forty  days, 
and  by  the  gradual  utilization  of  the  dogs  themselves 
for  reserve  food,  might  be  made  to  last  for  fifty  days 
if  it  came  to  a  pinch. 

As  the  Eskimos  worked  away  at  repairing  the 
sledges  while  we  rested  there  on  the  first  day  of  April, 
they  stopped  from  time  to  time  to  eat  some  of  the 
boiled  dog  which  the  surplus  numbers  in  Bartlett's 
returning  team  had  enabled  them  to  have.  They  had 
killed  one  of  the  poorest  dogs  and  boiled  it,  using  the 
splinters  of  an  extra  broken  sledge  for  fuel  under  their 


274  THE    NORTH   POLE 

cooker.  It  was  a  change  for  them  from  the  pemmican 
diet.  It  was  fresh  meat,  it  was  hot,  and  they  seemed 
thoroughly  to  enjoy  it.  But  though  I  remembered 
many  times  when  from  sheer  starvation  I  had  been  glad 
to  eat  dog  meat  raw,  I  did  not  feel  inclined  to  join  in 
the  feast  of  my  dusky  friends. 

A  little  after  midnight,  on  the  morning  of  April  2, 
after  a  few  hours  of  sound,  warm,  and  refreshing 
sleep,  and  a  hearty  breakfast,  I  started  to  lift  the  trail 
to  the  north,  leaving  the  others  to  pack,  hitch  up, 
and  follow.  As  I  climbed  the  pressure  ridge  back  of 
our  igloo,  I  took  up  another  hole  in  my  belt,  the  third 
since  I  left  the  land  —  thirty-two  days  before.  Every 
man  and  dog  of  us  was  as  lean  and  flat-bellied  as  a 
board,  and  as  hard. 

Up  to  this  time  I  had  intentionally  kept  in  the 
rear,  to  straighten  out  any  little  hitch  or  to  encourage 
a  man  with  a  broken  sledge,  and  to  see  that  everything 
was  in  good  marching  order.  Now  I  took  my  proper 
place  in  the  lead.  Though  I  held  myself  in  check, 
I  felt  the  keenest  exhilaration,  and  even  exultation,  as 
I  climbed  over  the  pressure  ridge  and  breasted  the 
keen  air  sweeping  over  the  mighty  ice,  pure  and  straight 
from  the  Pole  itself. 

These  feelings  were  not  in  any  way  dampened  when 
I  plunged  off  the  pressure  ridge  into  water  mid-thigh 
deep,  where  the  pressure  had  forced  down  the  edge  of 
the  floe  north  of  us  and  had  allowed  the  water  to  flow 
in  under  the  surface  snow.  My  boots  and  trousers 
were  tight,  so  that  no  water  could  get  inside,  and  as 
the  water  froze  on  the  fur  of  my  trousers  I  scraped  it 
off  with  the  blade  of  the  ice  lance  which  I  carried,  and 


FINAL   SPURT   BEGUN  275 

was  no  worse  for  my  involuntary  morning  plunge.  I 
thought  of  my  unused  bath  tub  on  the  Roosevelt, 
three  hundred  and  thirty  nautical  miles  to  the  south, 
and  smiled. 

It  was  a  fine  marching  morning,  clear  and  sunlit, 
with  a  temperature  of  minus  25°,  and  the  wind  of  the 
past  few  days  had  subsided  to  a  gentle  breeze.  The 
going  was  the  best  we  had  had  since  leaving  the  land. 
The  floes  were  large  and  old,  hard  and  level,  with 
patches  of  sapphire  blue  ice  (the  pools  of  the  preced- 
ing summer).  While  the  pressure  ridges  surrounding 
them  were  stupendous,  some  of  them  fifty  feet  high, 
they  were  not  especially  hard  to  negotiate,  either 
through  some  gap  or  up  the  gradual  slope  of  a  huge 
drift  of  snow.  The  brilliant  sunlight,  the  good  going 
save  for  the  pressure  ridges,  the  consciousness  that  we 
were  now  well  started  on  the  last  lap  of  our  journey, 
and  the  joy  of  again  being  in  the  lead  affected  me  like 
wine.  The  years  seemed  to  drop  from  me,  and  I  felt 
as  I  had  felt  in  those  days  fifteen  years  before,  when  I 
headed  my  little  party  across  the  great  ice-cap  of  Green- 
land, leaving  twenty  and  twenty -five  miles  behind  my 
snowshoes  day  after  day,  and  on  a  spurt  stretching  it 
to  thirty  or  forty. 


Perhaps  a  man  always  thinks  of  the  very  beginning 
of  his  work  when  he  feels  it  is  nearing  its  end.  The 
appearance  of  the  ice-fields  to  the  north  this  day, 
large  and  level,  the  brilliant  blue  of  the  sky,  the  biting 
character  of  the  wind  —  everything  excepting  the  sur- 
face of  the  ice,  which  on  the  great  cap  is  absolutely 


276  THENORTHPOLE 

dead  level  with  a  straight  line  for  a  horizon  —  reminded 
me  of  those  marches  of  the  long  ago. 

The  most  marked  difference  was  the  shadows,  which 
on  the  ice-cap  are  absent  entirely,  but  on  the  polar 
ice,  where  the  great  pressure  ridges  stand  out  in  bold 
relief,  are  deep  and  dark.  Then,  too,  there  are  on  the 
polar  ice  those  little  patches  of  sapphire  blue  already 
mentioned,  made  from  the  water  pools  of  the  preced- 
ing summer.  On  the  Greenland  ice-cap  years  ago  I 
had  been  spurred  on  by  the  necessity  of  reaching  the 
musk-oxen  of  Independence  Bay  before  my  supplies 
gave  out.  Now  I  was  spurred  on  by  the  necessity  of 
making  my  goal,  if  possible,  before  the  round  face  of 
the  coming  full  moon  should  stir  the  tides  with  unrest 
and  open  a  network  of  leads  across  our  path. 

After  some  hours  the  sledges  caught  up  with  me. 
The  dogs  were  so  active  that  morning,  after  their  day's 
rest,  that  I  was  frequently  obliged  to  sit  on  a  sledge 
for  a  few  minutes  or  else  run  to  keep  up  with  them, 
which  I  did  not  care  to  do  just  yet.  Our  course  was 
nearly,  as  the  crow  flies,  due  north,  across  floe  after 
floe,  pressure  ridge  after  pressure  ridge,  headed  straight 
for  some  hummock  or  pinnacle  of  ice  which  I  had  lined 
in  with  my  compass. 

In  this  way  we  traveled  for  ten  hours  without  stop- 
ping, covering,  I  felt  sure,  thirty  miles,  though,  to  be 
conservative,  I  called  it  twenty-five.  My  Eskimos 
said  that  we  had  come  as  far  as  from  the  Roosevelt  to 
Porter's  Bay,  which  by  our  winter  route  scales  thirty- 
five  miles  on  the  chart.  Anyway,  we  were  well  over 
the  88th  parallel,  in  a  region  where  no  human  being 
had   ever   been   before.     And   whatever   distance   we 


FINAL   SPURT   BEGUN  277 

made,  we  were  likely  to  retain  it  now  that  the  wind 
had  ceased  to  blow  from  the  north.  It  was  even  pos- 
sible that  with  the  release  of  the  wind  pressure  the  ice 
might  rebound  more  or  less  and  return  us  some  of  the 
hard-earned  miles  which  it  had  stolen  from  us  during 
the  previous  three  days. 

Near  the  end  of  the  march  I  came  upon  a  lead  which 
was  just  opening.  It  was  ten  yards  wide  directly  in 
front  of  me,  but  a  few  hundred  yards  to  the  east  was 
an  apparently  practicable  crossing  where  the  single 
crack  was  divided  into  several.  I  signaled  to  the 
sledges  to  hurry;  then,  running  to  the  place,  I  had  time 
to  pick  a  road  across  the  moving  ice  cakes  and  return 
to  help  the  teams  across  before  the  lead  widened  so 
as  to  be  impassable.  This  passage  was  effected  by  my 
jumping  from  one  cake  to  another,  picking  the  way, 
and  making  sure  that  the  cake  would  not  tilt  under  the 
weight  of  the  dogs  and  the  sledge,  returning  to  the 
former  cake  where  the  dogs  were,  encouraging  the  dogs 
ahead  while  the  driver  steered  the  sledge  across  from 
cake  to  cake,  and  threw  his  weight  from  one  side  to, 
the  other  so  that  it  could  not  overturn.  We  got  the 
sledges  across  several  cracks  so  wide  that  while  the 
dogs  had  no  trouble  in  jumping,  the  men  had  to  be 
pretty  active  in  order  to  follow  the  long  sledges.  For- 
tunately the  sledges  were  of  the  new  Peary  type, 
twelve  feet  long.  Had  they  been  of  the  old  Eskimo 
type,  seven  feet  long,  we  might  have  had  to  use  ropes 
and  pull  them  across  hand  over  hand  on  an  ice  cake. 

It  is  always  hard  to  make  the  dogs  leap  a  widening 
crack,  though  some  of  the  best  dog  drivers  can  do  it 
instantly,  using  the  whip  and  the  voice.     A  poor  dog 


278  THENORTHPOLE 

driver  would  be  likely  to  get  everything  into  the  water 
in  the  attempt.  It  is  sometimes  necessary  to  go  ahead 
of  the  dogs,  holding  the  hand  low  and  shaking  it  as 
though  it  contained  some  dainty  morsel  of  food,  thus 
inspiring  them  with  courage  for  the  leap. 

Perhaps  a  mile  beyond  this,  the  breaking  of  the 
ice  at  the  edge  of  a  narrow  lead  as  I  landed  from  a 
jump  sent  me  into  the  water  nearly  to  my  hips;  but 
as  the  water  did  not  come  above  the  waistband  of  my 
trousers,  which  were  water-tight,  it  was  soon  scraped 
and  beaten  off  before  it  had  time  to  freeze. 

This  lead  was  not  wide  enough  to  bother  the 
sledges. 

As  we  stopped  to  make  our  camp  near  a  huge  pres- 
sure ridge,  the  sun,  which  was  gradually  getting  higher, 
seemed  almost  to  have  some  warmth.  While  we  were 
building  our  igloos,  we  could  see,  by  the  water  clouds 
lying  to  the  east  and  southeast  of  us  some  miles  distant, 
that  a  wide  lead  was  opening  in  that  direction.  The 
approaching  full  moon  was  evidently  getting  in  its 
work. 

As  we  had  traveled  on,  the  moon  had  circled  round 
and  round  the  heavens  opposite  the  sun,  a  disk  of 
silver  opposite  a  disk  of  gold.  Looking  at  its  pallid 
and  spectral  face,  from  which  the  brighter  light  of  the 
sun  had  stolen  the  color,  it  seemed  hard  to  realize 
that  its  presence  there  had  power  to  stir  the  great  ice- 
fields around  us  with  restlessness  —  power  even  now, 
when  we  were  so  near  our  goal,  to  interrupt  our 
pathway  with  an  impassable  lead. 

The  moon  had  been  our  friend  during  the  long 
winter,  giving  us  light  to  hunt  by  for  a  week  or  two  each 


FINAL   SPURT   BEGUN  279 

month.  Now  it  seemed  no  longer  a  friend,  but  a  dan- 
.  gerous  presence  to  be  regarded  with  fear.  Its  power, 
which  had  before  been  beneficent,  was  now  malevolent 
and  incalculably  potent  for  evil. 

When  we  awoke  early  in  the  morning  of  April  3, 
after  a  few  hours'  sleep,  we  found  the  weather  still 
clear  and  calm.  There  were  some  broad  heavy  pres- 
sxire  ridges  in  the  beginning  of  this  march,  and  we  had 
to  use  pickaxes  quite  freely.  This  delayed  us  a  little, 
but  as  soon  as  we  struck  the  level  old  floes  we  tried  to 
make  up  for  lost  time.  As  the  daylight  was  now  con- 
tinuous we  could  travel  as  long  as  we  pleased  and  sleep 
as  little  as  we  must.  We  hustled  along  for  ten  hours 
again,  as  we  had  before,  making  only  twenty  miles, 
because  of  the  early  delay  with  the  pickaxes  and 
another  brief  delay  at  a  narrow  lead.  We  were  now 
half-way  to  the  89th  parallel,  and  I  had  been  obliged 
to  take  up  another  hole  in  my  belt. 

Some  gigantic  rafters  were  seen  during  this  march, 
but  they  were  not  in  our  path.  All  day  long  we  had 
heard  the  ice  grinding  and  groaning  on  all  sides  of  us, 
but  no  motion  was  visible  to  our  eyes.  Either  the 
ice  was  slacking  back  into  equilibrium,  sagging  north- 
ward after  its  release  from  the  wind  pressure,  or  else 
it  was  feeling  the  influence  of  the  spring  tides  of  the 
full  moon.  On,  on  we  pushed,  and  I  am  not  ashamed 
to  confess  that  my  pulse  beat  high,  for  the  breath  of 
success  seemed  already  in  my  nostrils. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

ONLY  ONE  DAY  FROM  THE  POLE 

WITH  every  passing  day  even  the  Eskimos 
were  becoming  more  eager  and  interested, 
notwithstanding  the  fatigue  of  the  long 
marches.  As  we  stopped  to  make  camp,  they  would 
climb  to  some  pinnacle  of  ice  and  strain  their  eyes 
to  the  north,  wondering  if  the  Pole  was  in  sight,  for 
they  were  now  certain  that  we  should  get  there  this 
time. 

We  slept  only  a  few  hours  the  next  night,  hitting 
the  trail  again  a  little  before  midnight  between  the 
3d  and  4th  of  April.  The  weather  and  the  going  were 
even  better  than  the  day  before.  The  surface  of  the 
ice,  except  as  interrupted  by  infrequent  pressure  ridges, 
was  as  level  as  the  glacial  fringe  from  Hecla  to  Cape 
Columbia,  and  harder.  I  rejoiced  at  the  thought  that 
if  the  weather  held  good  I  should  be  able  to  get  in  my 
five  marches  before  noon  of  the  6th. 

Again  we  traveled  for  ten  hours  straight  ahead, 
the  dogs  often  on  the  trot  and  occasionally  on  the  run, 
and  in  those  ten  hours  we  reeled  oflf  at  least  twenty- 
five  miles.  I  had  a  slight  accident  that  day,  a  sledge 
runner  having  passed  over  the  side  of  my  right  foot  as 
I  stumbled  while  running  beside  a  team;  but  the  hurt 
was  not  severe  enough  to  keep   me  from  traveling. 

Near  the  end  of  the  day  we  crossed  a  lead  about  one 

280 


ONE   DAY   FROM   POLE  281 

hundred  yards  wide,  on  young  ice  so  thin  that,  as  I 
ran  ahead  to  guide  the  dogs,  I  was  obliged  to  slide  my 
feet  and  travel  wide,  bear  style,  in  order  to  distribute 
my  weight,  while  the  men  let  the  sledges  and  dogs 
come  over  by  themselves,  gliding  across  where  they 
could.     The  last  two  men  came  over  on  all  fours. 

I  watched  them  from  the  other  side  with  my  heart  in 
my  mouth  —  watched  the  ice  bending  under  the  weight 
of  the  sledges  and  the  men.  As  one  of  the  sledges 
neared  the  north  side,  a  runner  cut  clear  through 
the  ice,  and  I  expected  every  moment  that  the  whole 
thing,  dogs  and  all,  would  go  through  the  ice  and  down 
to  the  bottom.     But  it  did  not. 

This  dash  reminded  me  of  that  day,  nearly  three 
years  before,  when  in  order  to  save  our  lives  we  had 
taken  desperate  chances  in  recrossing  the  "Big  Lead" 
on  ice  similar  to  this  —  ice  that  buckled  under  us  and 
through  which  my  toe  cut  several  times  as  I  slid  my 
long  snowshoes  over  it.  A  man  who  should  wait  for 
the  ice  to  be  really  safe  would  stand  small  chance  of 
getting  far  in  these  latitudes.  Traveling  on  the  polar 
ice,  one  takes  all  kinds  of  chances.  Often  a  man  has 
the  choice  between  the  possibility  of  drowning  by 
going  on  or  starving  to  death  by  standing  still,  and 
challenges  fate  with  the  briefer  and  less  painful 
chance. 

That  night  we  were  all  pretty  tired,  but  satisfied 
with  our  progress  so  far.  We  were  almost  inside  of 
the  89th  parallel,  and  I  wrote  in  my  diary :  "  Give  me 
three  more  days  of  this  weather!"  The  temperature 
at  the  beginning  of  the  march  had  been  minus  40°. 
That  night  I  put  all  the  poorest  dogs  in  one  team  and 


282  THENORTHPOLE 

began  to  eliminate  and  feed  them  to  the  others,  as 
it  became  necessary. 

We  stopped  for  only  a  short  sleep,  and  early  in  the 
evening  of  the  same  day,  the  4th,  we  struck  on  again. 
The  temperature  was  then  minus  35°,  the  going  was  the 
same,  but  the  sledges  always  haul  more  easily  when 
the  temperature  rises,  and  the  dogs  were  on  the  trot 
much  of  the  time.  Toward  the  end  of  the  march  we 
came  upon  a  lead  running  north  and  south,  and  as 
the  young  ice  was  thick  enough  to  support  the  teams, 
we  traveled  on  it  for  two  hours, -the  dogs  gallop- 
ing along  and  reeling  off  the  miles  in  a  way  that 
delighted  my  heart.  The  light  air  which  had  blown 
from  the  south  during  the  first  few  hours  of  the 
march  veered  to  the  east  and  grew  keener  as  the  hours 
wore  on. 

I  had  not  dared  to  hope  for  such  progress  as  we 
were  making.  Still  the  biting  cold  would  have  been 
impossible  to  face  by  anyone  not  fortified  by  an  inflex- 
ible purpose.  The  bitter  wind  burned  our  faces  so 
that  they  cracked,  and  long  after  we  got  into  camp  each 
day  they  pained  us  so  that  we  could  hardly  go  to  sleep. 
The  Eskimos  complained  much,  and  at  every  camp 
fixed  their  fur  clothing  about  their  faces,  waists,  knees, 
and  wrists.  They  also  complained  of  their  noses, 
which  I  had  never  known  them  to  do  before.  The  air 
was  as  keen  and  bitter  as  frozen  steel. 

At  the  next  camp  I  had  another  of  the  dogs  killed. 
It  was  now  exactly  six  weeks  since  we  left  the  Roose- 
velt, and  I  felt  as  if  the  goal  were  in  sight.  I  intended 
the  next  day,  weather  and  ice  permitting,  to  make  a 
long  march,  "boil  the  kettle"  midway,  and  then  go 


ONE   DAY  FROM   POLE  283 

on  again  without  sleep,  trying  to  make  up  the  five  miles 
which  we  had  lost  on  the  3d  of  April. 

During  the  daily  march  my  mind  and  body  were 
too  busy  with  the  problem  of  covering  as  many  miles 
of  distance  as  possible  to  permit  me  to  enjoy  the 
beauty  of  the  frozen  wilderness  through  which  we 
tramped.  But  at  the  end  of  the  day's  march,  while 
the  igloos  were  being  built,  I  usually  had  a  few  minutes 
in  which  to  look  about  me  and  to  realize  the  picturesque- 
ness  of  our  situation  —  we,  the  only  living  things 
in  a  trackless,  colorless,  inhospitable  desert  of  ice. 
Nothing  but  the  hostile  ice,  and  far  more  hostile  icy 
water,  lay  between  our  remote  place  on  the  world's 
map  and  the  utmost  tips  of  the  lands  of  Mother  Earth. 

I  knew  of  course  that  there  was  always  a  pos- 
sibility that  we  might  still  end  our  lives  up  there,  and 
that  our  conquest  of  the  unknown  spaces  and  silences 
of  the  polar  void  might  remain  forever  unknown  to  the 
world  which  we  had  left  behind.  But  it  was  hard  to 
realize  this.  That  hope  which  is  said  to  spring  eternal 
in  the  human  breast  always  buoyed  me  up  with  the 
belief  that,  as  a  matter  of  course,  we  should  be  able 
to  return  along  the  white  road  by  which  we  had  come. 

Sometimes  I  would  climb  to  the  top  of  a  pinnacle 
of  ice  to  the  north  of  our  camp  and  strain  my  eyes 
into  the  whiteness  which  lay  beyond,  trying  to  imagine 
myself  already  at  the  Pole.  We  had  come  so  far, 
and  the  capricious  ice  had  placed  so  few  obstructions 
in  our  path,  that  now  I  dared  to  loose  my  fancy, 
to  entertain  the  image  which  my  will  had  heretofore 
forbidden  to  my  imagination  —  the  image  of  ourselves 
at  the  goal. 


284  THENORTHPOLE 

We  had  been  very  fortunate  with  the  leads  so  far, 
but  I  was  in  constant  and  increasing  dread  lest  we 
should  encounter  an  impassable  one  toward  the  very 
end.  With  every  successive  march,  my  fear  of  such 
impassable  leads  had  increased.  At  every  pressure 
ridge  I  found  myself  hurrying  breathlessly  forward, 
fearing  there  might  be  a  lead  just  beyond  it,  and  when 
I  arrived  at  the  summit  I  would  catch  my  breath  with 
relief  —  only  to  find  myself  hurrying  on  in  the  same 
way  at  the  next  ridge. 

At  our  camp  on  the  5th  of  April  I  gave  the  party 
a  little  more  sleep  than  at  the  previous  ones,  as  we  were 
all  pretty  well  played  out  and  in  need  of  rest.  I  took 
a  latitude  sight,  and  this  indicated  our  position  to 
be  89°  25',  or  thirty-five  miles  from  the  Pofe;  but  I 
determined  to  make  the  next  camp  in  time  for  a  noon 
observation,  if  the  sun  should  be  visible. 

Before  midnight  on  the  5th  we  were  again  on  the 
trail.  The  weather  was  overcast,  and  there  was  the 
same  gray  and  shadowless  light  as  on  the  march  after 
Marvin  had  turned  back.  The  sky  was  a  colorless  pall 
gradually  deepening  to  almost  black  at  the  horizon,  and 
the  ice  was  a  ghastly  and  chalky  white,  like  that  of 
the  Greenland  ice-cap  —  just  the  colors  which  an 
imaginative  artist  would  paint  as  a  polar  ice-scape. 
How  different  it  seemed  from  the  glittering  fields,  can- 
opied with  blue  and  lit  by  the  sun  and  full  moon,  over 
which  we  had  been  traveling  for  the  last  four  days. 

The  going  was  even  better  than  before.  There 
was  hardly  any  snow  on  the  hard  granular  surface  of 
the  old  floes,  and  the  sapphire  blue  lakes  were  larger 
than  ever.     The  temperature  had  risen  to  minus  15°, 


o 

M 


tf  s 


b-  '5) 


■J} 


ONE    DAY   FROM   POLE  285 

which,  reducing  the  friction  of  the  sledges,  gave  the 
dogs  the  appearance  of  having  caught  the  high  spirits 
of  the  party.  Some  of  them  even  tossed  their  heads 
and  barked  and  yelped  as  they  traveled. 

Notwithstanding  the  grayness  of  the  day,  and  the 
melancholy  aspect  of  the  surrounding  world,  by  some 
strange  shift  of  feeling  the  fear  of  the  leads  had  fallen 
from  me  completely.  I  now  felt  that  success  was  cer- 
tain, and,  notwithstanding  the  physical  exhaustion 
of  the  forced  marches  of  the  last  five  days,  I  went 
tirelessly  on  and  on,  the  Eskimos  following  almost 
automatically,  though  I  knew  that  they  must  feel 
the  weariness  which  my  excited  brain  made  me 
incapable  of  feeling. 

When  we  had  covered,  as  I  estimated,  a  good  fif- 
teen miles,  we  halted,  made  tea,  ate  lunch,  and  rested 
the  dogs.  Then  we  went  on  for  another  estimated 
fifteen  miles.  In  twelve  hours'  actual  traveling  time 
we  made  thirty  miles.  Many  laymen  have  wondered 
why  we  were  able  to  travel  faster  after  the  sending 
back  of  each  of  the  supporting  parties,  especially  after 
the  last  one.  To  any  man  experienced  in  the  handling 
of  troops  this  will  need  no  explanation.  The  larger  the 
party  and  the  greater  the  number  of  sledges,  the  greater 
is  the  chance  of  breakages  or  delay  for  one  reason  or 
another.  A  large  party  cannot  be  forced  as  rapidly 
as  a  small  party. 

Take  a  regiment,  for  instance.  The  regiment 
could  not  make  as  good  an  average  daily  march  for  a 
number  of  forced  marches  as  could  a  picked  company 
of  that  regiment.  The  picked  company  could  not  make 
as  good  an  average  march  for  a  number  of  forced 


286  THENORTHPOLE 

marches  as  could  a  picked  file  of  men  from  that  partic- 
ular company;  and  this  file  could  not  make  the  same 
average  for  a  certain  number  of  forced  marches  that 
the  fastest  traveler  in  the  whole  regiment  could  make. 

So  that,  with  my  party  reduced  to  five  picked  men, 
every  man,  dog,  and  sledge  under  my  individual  eye, 
myself  in  the  lead,  and  all  recognizing  that  the  moment 
had  now  come  to  let  ourselves  out  for  all  there  was  in 
us,  we  naturally  bettered  our  previous  speed. 

When  Bartlett  left  us  the  sledges  had  been  practi- 
cally rebuilt,  all  the  best  dogs  were  in  our  pack,  and  we 
all  understood  that  we  must  attain  our  object  and  get 
back  as  quickly  as  we  possibly  could.  The  weather  was 
in  our  favor.  The  average  march  for  the  whole  journey 
from  the  land  to  the  Pole  was  over  fifteen  miles.  We 
had  repeatedly  made  marches  of  twenty  miles.  Our 
average  for  five  marches  from  the  point  where  the  last 
supporting  party  turned  back  was  about  twenty-six 
miles. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


WE   REACH   THE   POLE 


THE  last  march  northward  ended  at  ten  o'clock 
on  the  forenoon  of  April  6.  I  had  now  made 
the  five  marches  planned  from  the  point  at 
which  Bartlett  turned  back,  and  my  reckoning  showed 
that  we  were  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  goal 
of  all  our  striving.  After  the  usual  arrangements  for 
going  into  camp,  at  approximate  local  noon,  of  the  Co- 
lumbia meridian,  I  made  the  first  observation  at  our 
polar  camp.     It  indicated  our  position  as  89°  57'. 

We  were  now  at  the  end  of  the  last  long  march 
of  the  upward  journey.  Yet  with  the  Pole  actually 
in  sight  I  was  too  weary  to  take  the  last  few  steps. 
The  accumulated  weariness  of  all  those  days  and  nights 
of  forced  marches  and  insufficient  sleep,  constant 
peril  and  anxiety,  seemed  to  roll  across  me  all  at  once. 
I  was  actually  too  exhausted  to  realize  at  the  moment 
that  my  life's  purpose  had  been  achieved.  As  soon 
as  our  igloos  had  been  completed  and  we  had  eaten 
our  dinner  and  double-rationed  the  dogs,  I  turned  in 
for  a  few  hours  of  absolutely  necessary  sleep,  Henson 
and  the  Eskimos  having  unloaded  the  sledges  and  got 
them  in  readiness  for  such  repairs  as  were  necessary. 
But,  weary  though  I  was,  I  could  not  sleep  long.  It 
was,  therefore,  only  a  few  hours  later  when  I  woke. 
The  first  thing  I  did  after  awaking  was  to  write  these 

287 


288  THENORTHPOLE 

words  in  my  diary:  "The  Pole  at  last.  The  prize  of 
three  centuries.  My  dream  and  goal  for  twenty  years. 
Mine  at  last!  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  realize  it.  It 
seems  all  so  simple  and  commonplace." 

Everything  was  in  readiness  for  an  observation^  at 

'  The  instruments  used  in  taking  observations  for  latitude  may  be  either  a 
sextant  and  an  artificial  horizon,  or  a  small  theodolite.  Both  these  instruments 
were  taken  on  the  sledge  journey;  but  the  theodolite  was  not  used,  owing  to  the 
low  altitude  of  the  sun.  Had  the  expedition  been  delayed  on  the  return  until  May 
or  June,  the  theodoUte  would  then  have  been  of  value  in  determining  position  and 
variation  of  the  compass. 

The  method  of  taking  meridian  observations  with  a  sextant  and  an  artificial 
horizon  on  a  polar  sledge  journey  is  as  follows:  if  there  is  any  wind,  a  semicircular 
wind-guard  of  snow  blocks,  two  tiers  high,  is  put  up,  opening  to  the  south.  If 
there  is  no  wind,  this  is  not  necessary. 

The  instrument  box  is  firmly  bedded  in  the  snow,  which  is  packed  down  to  a 
firm  bearing  and  snow  is  packed  around  the  box.  Then  something,  usually  a 
skin,  is  thrown  over  the  snow,  partly  to  prevent  any  possible  warmth  from  the  sun 
melting  the  snow  and  shifting  the  bearing  of  the  box;  partly  to  protect  the  eyes 
of  the  observer  from  the  intense  reflected  glare  of  light  from  the  snow. 

The  mercury  trough  of  the  artificial  horizon  is  placed  on  top  of  the  level  box, 
and  the  mercury,  which  has  been  thoroughly  warmed  in  the  igloo,  is  poured  into 
the  trough  until  it  is  full.  In  the  case  of  the  special  wooden  trough  devised  and 
used  on  the  last  expedition,  it  was  possible  to  bring  the  surface  of  the  mercury 
level  with  the  edges  of  the  trough,  thus  enabling  us  to  read  angles  very  close  to 
the  horizon. 

The  mercury  trough  is  covered  with  what  is  called  the  roof  —  a  metal  frame- 
work carrying  two  pieces  of  very  accurately  ground  glass,  set  inclined,  like  the 
opposite  sides  of  the  roof  of  a  house.  The  object  of  this  roof  is  to  prevent  any 
slightest  breath  of  wind  disturbing  the  surface  of  the  mercury  and  so  distorting 
the  Sim's  image  in  it,  and  also  to  keep  out  any  fine  snow  or  frost  crystals  that 
may  be  in  the  atmosphere.  In  placing  the  trough  and  the  roof  on  the  top  of  the 
instrument  box,  the  trough  is  placed  so  that  its  longer  diameter  will  be  directed 
toward  the  sun. 

A  skin  is  then  thrown  down  on  the  snow  close  to  the  box  and  north  of  it, 
and  the  observer  lies  down  flat  on  his  stomach  on  this,  with  his  head  to  the  south, 
and  head  and  sextant  close  to  the  artificial  horizon.  He  rests  both  elbows  on  the 
snow,  holding  the  sextant  firmly  in  both  hands,  and  moving  his  head  and  the 
instrument  until  the  image  or  part  of  the  image  of  the  sun  is  seen  reflected  on 
the  surface  of  the  mercury. 

The  principle  on  which  the  latitude  of  the  observer  is  obtained  from  the  alti- 
tude of  the  sun  at  noon  is  very  simple.     It  is  this:  that  the  latitude  of  the  observer 


WE   REACH   THE   POLE  289 

6  P.M.,  Columbia  meridian  time,  in  case  the  sky  should 
be  clear,  but  at  that  hour  it  was,  unfortunately,  still 
overcast.  But  as  there  were  indications  that  it  would 
clear  before  long,  two  of  the  Eskimos  and  myself  made 
ready  a  light  sledge  carrying  only  the  instruments,  a 
tin  of  pemmican,  and  one  or  two  skins;  and  drawn  by 
a  double  team  of  dogs,  we  pushed  on  an  estimated 
distance  of  ten  miles.  While  we  traveled,  the  sky 
cleared,  and  at  the  end  of  the  journey,  I  was  able  to 
get  a  satisfactory  series  of  observations  at  Columbia 
meridian  midnight.  These  observations  indicated  that 
our  position  was  then  beyond  the  Pole. 

Nearly  everything  in  the  circumstances  which  then 
surrounded  us  seemed  too  strange  to  be  thoroughly  real- 
ized; but  one  of  the  strangest  of  those  circumstances 
seemed  to  me  to  be  the  fact  that,  in  a  march  of  only  a 
few  hours,  I  had  passed  from  the  western  to  the  eastern 
hemisphere  and  had  verified  my  position  at  the  summit 
of  the  world.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that,  in  the  first 
miles  of  this  brief  march,  we  had  been  traveling  due 
north,  while,  on  the  last  few  miles  of  the  same  march, 
we  had  been  traveling  south,  although  we  had  all 
the  time  been  traveling  precisely  in  the  same  direction. 
It  would  be  diflScult  to  imagine  a  better  illustration 
of   the   fact   that   most   things   are   relative.     Again, 

is  equal  to  the  distance  of  the  center  of  the  sun  from  the  zenith,  plus  the  declination 
of  the  sun  for  that  day  and  hour. 

The  declination  of  the  min  for  any  place  at  any  hour  may  be  obtained 
from  tables  prepared  for  that  purpose,  which  give  the  declination  for 
noon  of  every  day  on  the  Greenwich  meridian,  and  the  hourly  change  in  the 
declination. 

Such  tables  for  the  months  of  February,  March,  April,  May,  June,  and  July, 
together  with  the  ordinary  tables  for  refraction  to  minus  10°  Fahrenheit,  I  had  with 
me  on  pages  torn  from  the  "  Nautical  Almanac  and  Navigator." 


290  THE   NORTH   POLE 

please  consider  the  uncommon  circumstance  that,  in 
order  to  return  to  our  camp,  it  now  became  necessary 
to  turn  and  go  north  again  for  a  few  miles  and  then 
to  go  directly  south,  all  the  time  traveling  in  the  same 
direction. 

As  we  passed  back  along  that  trail  which  none  had 
ever  seen  before  or  would  ever  see  again,  certain  reflec- 
tions intruded  themselves  which,  I  think,  may  fairly 
be  called  unique.  East,  west,  and  north  had  disappeared 
for  us.  Only  one  direction  remained  and  that  was 
south.  Every  breeze  which  could  possibly  blow  upon 
us,  no  matter  from  what  point  of  the  horizon,  must 
be  a  south  wind.  Where  we  were,  one  day  and  one 
night  constituted  a  year,  a  hundred  such  days  and 
nights  constituted  a  century.  Had  we  stood  in  that 
spot  during  the  six  months  of  the  arctic  winter  night, 
we  should  have  seen  every  star  of  the  northern 
hemisphere  circling  the  sky  at  the  same  distance  from 
the  horizon,  with  Polaris  (the  North  Star)  practically 
in  the  zenith. 

All  during  our  march  back  to  camp  the  sun  was 
swinging  around  in  its  ever-moving  circle.  At  six 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  April  7,  having  again  arrived 
at  Camp  Jesup,  I  took  another  series  of  observations. 
These  indicated  our  position  as  being  four  or  five  miles 
from  the  Pole,  towards  Bering  Strait.  Therefore,  with 
a  double  team  of  dogs  and  a  light  sledge,  I  traveled 
directly  towards  the  sun  an  estimated  distance  of 
eight  miles.  Again  I  returned  to  the  camp  in  time 
for  a  final  and  completely  satisfactory  series  of  obser- 
vations on  April  7  at  noon,  Columbia  meridian  time. 
These  observations  gave  results  essentially  the  same 


PEARY  WITH  CHRONOMETER,   SEXTANT  AND  ARTIFICIAL  HORIZON 

AT  THE  POLE 


PEARY  TAKING  AN  OBSERVATION  AT  THE  POLE,  WITH  ARTIFICIAL 

HORIZON,  IN  A  SNOW  SHELTER 
Photos  by  Henson,  April  7 


PEAKY \S    IGLOO    AT   CAMP   MORRIS    K.    .lESUP,    APRIL   (>,    1909; 
The  Most  Northerly  Human  Habitation  in  the  Worhl.     In  the  Background  Flies 
Peary's  North  Polar  Flag  Which  He  Had  Carried  for  Fifteen  Years 


WE   REACH   THE   POLE  291 

as  those  made  at  the  same  spot  twenty-four  hours 
before. 

I  had  now  taken  in  all  thirteen  single,  or  six  and 
one-half  double,  altitudes  of  the  sun,  at  two  different 
stations,  in  three  different  directions,  at  four  different 
times.  All  were  under  satisfactory  conditions,  except 
for  the  first  single  altitude  on  the  sixth.  The  tempera- 
ture during  these  observations  had  been  from  minus 
11°  Fahrenheit  to  minus  30°  Fahrenheit,  with  clear 
sky  and  calm  weather  (except  as  already  noted  for 
the  single  observation  on  the  sixth).  I  give  here  a 
facsimile  of  a  typical  set  of  these  observations.  (See 
the  two  following  pages.) 

In  traversing  the  ice  in  these  various  directions 
as  I  had  done,  I  had  allowed  approximately  ten 
miles  for  possible  errors  in  my  observations,  and 
at  some  moment  during  these  marches  and  counter- 
marches, I  had  passed  over  or  very  near  the  point' 
where  north  and  south  and  east  and  west  blend  into 
one. 

'  Ignorance  and  misconception  of  all  polar  matters  seem  so  widespread  and 
comprehensive  that  it  appears  advisable  to  introduce  here  a  few  a  b  c  paragraphs. 
Anyone  interested  can  supplement  these  by  reading  the  introductory  parts  of 
any  good  elementary  school  geography  or  astronomy. 

The  North  Pole  (that  is,  the  geographical  pole  as  distinguished  from  the 
magnetic  pole,  and  this  appears  to  be  the  first  and  most  general  stumbling  block 
of  the  ignorant)  is  simply  the  point  where  that  imaginary  line  known  as  the  earth's 
axis  —  that  is,  the  line  on  which  the  earth  revolves  in  its  daily  motion  —  intersects 
the  earth's  surface. 

Some  of  the  recent  sober  discussions  as  to  the  size  of  the  North  Pole,  whether 
it  was  as  big  as  a  quarter,  or  a  hat,  or  a  township,  have  been  intensely  ludicrous. 

Precisely  speaking,  the  North  Pole  is  simply  a  mathematical  point,  and  there- 
fore, in  accordance  with  the  mathematical  definition  of  a  point,  it  has  neither  length, 
breadth,  nor  thickness. 

If  the  question  is  asked,  how  closely  can  the  Pole  be  determined  (this  is  the 
point  which  has  muddled  some  of  the  ignorant  wiseacres),  the  answer  will  be: 


~^ 


o  » 


^1      X-i^Ho 


^   \^    \^   "KO 


0 


-xzr  \  "^  "^x  '^o '^ 


FACSIMILE  OF  OBSEBVATIONS  AT  CAMP  MOBEIS  JESUP,  APHIL  7,  1909 


FACSIMILE  OF  OBSERVATIONS  AT  CAMP  MOBBIS  JE8UP,  APBIL  7,  1909 


294  THENORTHPOLE 

Of  course  there  were  some  more  or  less  informal 
ceremonies  connected  with  our  arrival  at  our  difficult 
destination,  but  they  were  not  of  a  very  elaborate 
character.  We  planted  five  flags  at  the  top  of  the  world. 
The  first  one  was  a  silk  American  flag  which  Mrs.  Peary 
gave  me  fifteen  years  ago.  That  flag  has  done  more 
traveling  in  high  latitudes  than  any  other  ever  made. 

That  depends  upon  the  character  of  the  instruments  used,  the  ability  of  the 
observer  using  them,  and  the  number  of  observations  taken. 

If  there  were  land  at  the  Pole,  and  powerful  instruments  of  great  precision, 
such  as  are  used  in  the  world's  great  observatories,  were  mounted  there  on  suitable 
foundations  and  used  by  practised  observers  for  repeated  observations  extending 
over  years,  then  it  would  be  possible  to  determine  the  position  of  the  Pole  with 
great  precision. 

With  ordinary  field  instruments,  transit,  theodolite,  or  sextant,  an  extended 
series  of  observations  by  an  expert  observer  should  permit  the  determination  of 
the  Pole  within  entirely  satisfactory  limits,  but  not  with  the  same  precision  as  by 
the  first  method. 

A  single  observation  at  sea  with  sextant  and  the  natural  horizon,  as  usually 
taken  by  the  master  of  a  ship,  is  assumed  under  ordinary  satisfactory  conditions  to 
give  the  observer's  position  within  about  a  mile. 

In  regard  to  the  difficulties  of  taking  observations  in  the  arctic  regions,  I 
have  found  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  experts  who,  however,  have  not  had  practical 
experience  in  the  arctic  regions  themselves,  to  overestimate  and  exaggerate  the 
difficulties  and  drawbacks  of  making  these  observations  due  to  the  cold. 

My  personal  experience  has  been  that,  to  an  experienced  observer,  dressed 
in  furs  and  taking  observations  in  calm  weather,  in  temperatures  not  exceeding 
say  40°  below  zero  Fahrenheit,  the  difficulties  of  the  work  resulting  from  cold 
alone  are  not  serious.  The  amount  and  character  of  errors  due  to  the  effect  of 
cold  upon  the  instrument  might  perhaps  be  a  subject  for  discussion,  and  for  distinct 
differences  of  opinion. 

My  personal  experience  has  been  that  my  most  serious  trouble  was  with  the 
eyes. 

To  eyes  which  have  been  subjected  to  brilliant  and  unremitting  daylight 
for  days  and  weeks,  and  to  the  strain  of  continually  setting  a  course  with  the 
compass,  and  traveling  towards  a  fixed  point  in  such  light,  the  taking  of  a  series 
of  observations  is  usually  a  nightmare;  and  the  strain  of  focusing,  of  getting  precise 
contact  of  the  sun's  images,  and  of  reading  the  vernier,  all  in  the  blinding  light 
of  which  only  those  who  have  taken  observations  in  bright  sunlight  on  an  un- 
broken snow  expanse  in  the  arctic  regions  can  form  any  conception,  usually  leaves 
tbe  eyes  bloodshot  and  smarting  for  hours  afterwards. 


MEMBERS  OF  THE  PARTY  CHEERING  THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES  AT  THE 

POLE,   APRIL  7,    1909 
rrom  Left  to  Right;  Ooqueah,  Ootah,  Henson,  Egingwah  and  Seegloo 


RETURNING  TO  CAMP  WITH  THE  FLAGS,   APRIL  7,    1909 


2d 

f^    o 

g* 

o  §• 

^d 

H  a 

K  o 

0  O 

2;  .. 

H  i: 


WE  REACH  THE   POLE  295 

I  carried  it  wrapped  about  my  body  on  every  one 
of  my  expeditions  northward  after  it  came  into  my 
possession,  and  I  left  a  fragment  of  it  at  each  of  my 
successive  "farthest  norths":  Cape  Morris  K.  Jesup, 
the  northernmost  point  of  land  in  the  known  world; 
Cape  Thomas  Hubbard,  the  northernmost  known 
point  of  Jesup  Land,  west  of  Grant  Land;  Cape 
Columbia,  the  northernmost  point  of  North  American 
lands;  and  my  farthest  north  in  1906,  latitude  87°  6' 
in  the  ice  of  the  polar  sea.  By  the  time  it  actually 
reached  the  Pole,  therefore,  it  was  somewhat  worn 
and  discolored. 

A  broad  diagonal  section  of  this  ensign  would  now 
mark  the  farthest  goal  of  earth  —  the  place  where  I 
and  my  dusky  companions  stood. 

It  was  also  considered  appropriate  to  raise  the 
colors  of  the  Delta  Kappa  Epsilon  fraternity,  in  which 
I  was    initiated  a  member    while    an    undergraduate 

The  continued  series  of  observations  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Pole,  noted  above, 
left  me  with  eyes  that  were,  for  two  or  three  days,  useless  for  anything  requiring 
careful  vision,  and  had  it  been  necessary  for  me  to  set  a  course  during  the  first 
two  or  three  days  of  our  return  I  should  have  found  it  extremely  trying. 

Snow  goggles,  as  worn  by  us  continually  during  the  march,  while  helping, 
do  not  entirely  relieve  the  eyes  from  strain,  and  during  a  series  of  observations 
the  eyes  become  extremely  tired  and  at  times  uncertain. 

Various  authorities  will  give  different  estimates  of  the  probable  error  in  obser- 
vations taken  at  the  Pole.  I  am  personally  inclined  to  think  that  an  allowance 
of  five  miles  is  an  equitable  one. 

No  one,  except  those  entirely  ignorant  of  such  matters,  has  imagined  for  a 
moment  that  I  was  able  to  determine  with  my  instruments  the  precise  position 
of  the  Pole,  but  after  having  determined  its  position  approximately,  then 
setting  an  arbitrary  allowance  of  about  ten  miles  for  possible  errors  of  the 
instruments  and  myself  as  observer,  and  then  crossing  and  recrossing  that  ten 
mile  area  in  various  directions,  no  one  except  the  most  ignorant  will  have  any 
doubt  but  what,  at  some  time,  I  had  passed  close  to  the  precise  point,  and  had, 
perhaps,  actually  passed  over  it. 


296  THENORTHPOLE 

student  at  Bowdoin  College,  the  "World's  Ensign  of 
Liberty  and  Peace,"  with  its  red,  white,  and  blue 
in  a  field  of  white,  the  Navy  League  flag,  and  the 
Red  Cross  flag. 

After  I  had  planted  the  American  flag  in  the  ice, 
I  told  Henson  to  time  the  Eskimos  for  three  rousing 
cheers,  which  they  gave  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm. 
Thereupon,  I  shook  hands  with  each  member  of  the 
party  —  surely  a  sufiiciently  unceremonious  affair  to 
meet  with  the  approval  of  the  most  democratic.  The 
Eskimos  were  childishly  delighted  with  our  success. 
While,  of  course,  they  did  not  realize  its  importance*' 
fully,  or  its  world-wide  significance,  they  did  understand 
that  it  meant  the  final  achievement  of  a  task  upon 
which  they  had  seen  me  engaged  for  many  years. 

Then,  in  a  space  between  the  ice  blocks  of  a  pres- 
sure ridge,  I  deposited  a  glass  bottle  containing  a 
diagonal  strip  of  my  flag  and  records  of  which  the 
following  is  a  copy: 

90  N.  Lat.,  North  Pole, 
April  6,  1909. 

Arrived  here  to-day,  27  marches  from  C.  Columbia. 

I  have  with  me  5  men,  Matthew  Henson,  colored, 
Ootah,  Egingwah,  Seegloo,  and  Ookeah,  Eskimos; 
5  sledges  and  38  dogs.  My  ship,  the  S.  S.  Roosevelt, 
is  in  winter  quarters  at  C.  Sheridan,  90  miles  east  of 
Columbia. 

The  expedition  under  my  command  which  has 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  Pole  is  under  the  auspices 
of  the  Peary  Arctic  Club  of  New  York  City,  and  has 
been  fitted  out  and  sent  north  by  the  members  and 


WE  REACH  THE   POLE  297 

friends  of  the  club  for  the  purpose  of  securing  this 
geographical  prize,  if  possible,  for  the  honor  and 
prestige  of  the  United  States  of  America. 

The  oflBcers  of  the  club  are  Thomas  H.  Hubbard, 
of  New  York,  President;  Zenas  Crane,  of  Mass.,  Vice- 
president;  Herbert  L.  Bridgman,  of  New  York,  Secre- 
tary and  Treasurer. 

I  start  back  for  Cape  Columbia  to-morrow. 

Robert  E.  Peary, 
United  States  Navy. 

"  90  N.  Lat.,  North  Pole, 

April  6,  1909. 
I  have  to-day  hoisted  the  national  ensign  of  the 
United  States  of  America  at  this  place,  which  my 
observations  indicate  to  be  the  North  Polar  axis  of 
the  earth,  and  have  formally  taken  possession  of  the 
entire  region,  and  adjacent,  for  and  in  the  name  of  the 
President  of  the  United  States  of  America. 

I  leave  this  record  and  United  States  flag  in  pos- 
session. 

Robert  E.  Peary, 
United  States  Navy. 

If  it  were  possible  for  a  man  to  arrive  at  90°  north 
latitude  without  being  utterly  exhausted,  body  and 
brain,  he  would  doubtless  enjoy  a  series  of  unique 
sensations  and  reflections.  But  the  attainment  of 
the  Pole  was  the  culmination  of  days  and  weeks  of 
forced  marches,  physical  discomfort,  insufficient  sleep, 
and  racking  anxiety.  It  is  a  wise  provision  of  nature 
that  the  human  consciousness  can  grasp  only  such 


298  THENORTHPOLE 

degree  of  intense  feeling  as  the  brain  can  endure,  and 
the  grim  guardians  of  earth's  remotest  spot  will  accept 
no  man  as  guest  until  he  has  been  tried  and  tested  by 
the  severest  ordeal. 

Perhaps  it  ought  not  to  have  been  so,  but  when  I 
knew  for  a  certainty  that  we  had  reached  the  goal, 
there  was  not  a  thing  in  the  world  I  wanted  but  sleep. 
But  after  I  had  a  few  hours  of  it,  there  succeeded 
a  condition  of  mental  exaltation  which  made  further 
rest  impossible.  For  more  than  a  score  of  years 
that  point  on  the  earth's  surface  had  been  the  ob- 
ject of  my  every  effort.  To  its  attainment  my  whole 
being,  physical,  mental,  and  moral,  had  been  dedicated. 
Many  times  my  own  life  and  the  lives  of  those  with 
me  had  been  risked.  My  own  material  and  forces 
and  those  of  my  friends  had  been  devoted  to  this 
object.  This  journey  was  my  eighth  into  the  arctic 
wilderness.  In  that  wilderness  I  had  spent  nearly 
twelve  years  out  of  the  twenty-three  between  my 
thirtieth  and  my  fifty-third  year,  and  the  intervening 
time  spent  in  civilized  communities  during  that  period 
had  been  mainly  occupied  with  preparations  for 
returning  to  the  wilderness.  The  determination  to 
reach  the  Pole  had  become  so  much  a  part  of  my  being 
that,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  long  ago  ceased  to  think 
of  myself  save  as  an  instrument  for  the  attainment 
of  that  end.  To  the  layman  this  may  seem  strange, 
but  an  inventor  can  understand  it,  or  an  artist,  or 
anyone  who  has  devoted  himself  for  years  upon  years 
to  the  service  of  an  idea. 

But  though  my  mind  was  busy  at  intervals  during 
those  thirty  hours  spent  at  the  Pole  with  the  exhilarating 


EGIXGWAII  SEARCHING  THE  HORIZON  FOR  LAND 


PEARY  SEARCHING  THE   HORIZON  FOR  LAND 
From  Top  of  Pressure  Ridge  Back  of  Igloos  at  Camp  Jesup 


LOOKING  TOWARD  CAPE  CHELYUSKIN 


LOOKING  TOWARD  SPITZBEHGEN 


LOOKING  TOWARD  CAPE  COLUMBIA 


LOOKING  TOWARD  BERING  STRAIT 


(The  Four  Direc-tiona  from  thu  Pole) 


WE   REACH   THE   POLE  299 

thought  that  my  dream  had  come  true,  there  was  one 
recollection  of  other  times  that,  now  and  then,  intruded 
itself  with  startling  distinctness.  It  was  the  recollection 
of  a  day  three  years  before,  April  21,  1906,  when  after 
making  a  fight  with  ice,  open  water,  and  storms,  the 
expedition  which  I  commanded  had  been  forced  to 
turn  back  from  87°  6'  north  latitude  because  our  supply 
of  food  would  carry  us  no  further.  And  the  contrast 
between  the  terrible  depression  of  that  day  and  the 
exaltation  of  the  present  moment  was  not  the  least 
pleasant  feature  of  our  brief  stay  at  the  Pole.  During 
the  dark  moments  of  that  return  journey  in  1906,  I 
had  told  myself  that  I  was  only  one  in  a  long  list  of 
arctic  explorers,  dating  back  through  the  centuries, 
all  the  way  from  Henry  Hudson  to  the  Duke  of  the 
Abruzzi,  and  including  Franklin,  Kane,  and  Melville  — 
a  long  list  of  valiant  men  who  had  striven  and  failed. 
I  told  myself  that  I  had  only  succeeded,  at  the  price 
of  the  best  years  of  my  life,  in  adding  a  few  links  to  the 
chain  that  led  from  the  parallels  of  civilization  towards 
the  polar  center,  but  that,  after  all,  at  the  end  the  only 
word  I  had  to  write  was  failure. 

But  now,  while  quartering  the  ice  in  various  direc- 
tions from  our  camp,  I  tried  to  realize  that,  after 
twenty-three  years  of  struggles  and  discouragement, 
I  had  at  last  succeeded  in  placing  the  flag  of  my 
country  at  the  goal  of  the  world's  desire.  It  is  not 
easy  to  write  about  such  a  thing,  but  I  knew  that  we 
were  going  back  to  civilization  with  the  last  of  the 
great  adventure  stories  —  a  story  the  world  had  been 
waiting  to  hear  for  nearly  four  hundred  years,  a 
story  which  was  to  be  told  at  last  under  the  folds  of 


300  THENORTHPOLE 

the  Stars  and  Stripes,  the  flag  that  during  a  lonely 
and  isolated  life  had  come  to  be  for  me  the  symbol  of 
home  and  everything  I  loved  —  and  might  never  see 
again. 

The  thirty  hours  at  the  Pole,  what  with  my  march- 
ings and  countermarchings,  together  with  the  obser- 
vations and  records,  were  pretty  well  crowded.  I  found 
time,  however,  to  write  to  Mrs.  Peary  on  a  United 
States  postal  card  which  I  had  found  on  the  ship 
during  the  winter.  It  had  been  my  custom  at  various 
important  stages  of  the  journey  northward  to  write 
such  a  note  in  order  that,  if  anything  serious  happened 
to  me,  these  brief  communications  might  ultimately 
reach  her  at  the  hands  of  survivors.  This  was  the 
card,  which  later  reached  Mrs.  Peary  at  Sydney: — 

"90  North  Latitude,  April  7th. 
"My  dear  Jo, 

"I  have  won  out  at  last.  Have  been  here  a  day. 
I  start  for  home  and  you  in  an  hour.  Love  to  the 
"kidsies." 

"Beht." 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  7th,  after  flying  our  flags 
and  taking  our  photographs,  we  went  into  our  igloos 
and  tried  to  sleep  a  little,  before  starting  south  again. 

I  could  not  sleep  and  my  two  Eskimos,  Seegloo 
and  Egingwah,  who  occupied  the  igloo  with  me,  seemed 
equally  restless.  They  turned  from., side  to  side,  and 
when  they  were  quiet  I  could  tell  from  their  uneven 
breathing  that  they  were  not  asleep.  Though  they 
had  not  been  specially  excited  the  day  before  when  I 


WE   REACH  THE   POLE  301 

told  them  that  we  had  reached  the  goal,  yet  they  also 
seemed  to  be  under  the  same  exhilarating  influence 
which  made  sleep  impossible  for  me. 

Finally  I  rose,  and  telling  my  men  and  the  three 
men  in  the  other  igloo,  who  were  equally  wakeful, 
that  we  would  try  to  make  our  last  camp,  some  thirty 
miles  to  the  south,  before  we  slept,  I  gave  orders  to 
hitch  up  the  dogs  and  be  off.  It  seemed  unwise  to 
waste  such  perfect  traveling  weather  in  tossing  about 
on  the  sleeping  platforms  of  our  igloos. 

Neither  Henson  nor  the  Eskimos  required  any 
urging  to  take  to  the  trail  again.  They  were  naturally 
anxious  to  get  back  to  the  land  as  soon  as  possible  — 
now  that  our  work  was  done.  And  about  four  o'clock 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  7th  of  April  we  turned  our 
backs  upon  the  camp  at  the  North  Pole. 

Though  intensely  conscious  of  what  I  was  leaving, 
I  did  not  wait  for  any  lingering  farewell  of  my  life's 
goal.  The  event  of  human  beings  standing  at  the 
hitherto  inaccessible  summit  of  the  earth  was  accom- 
plished, and  my  work  now  lay  to  the  south,  where 
four  hundred  and  thirteen  nautical  miles  of  ice-floes 
and  possibly  open  leads  still  lay  between  us  and  the 
north  coast  of  Grant  Land.  One  backward  glance 
I  gave  —  then  turnedmy  face  toward  the  south  and 
toward  the  future. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 


GOOD   BY   TO    THE   POLE 


WE  turned  our  backs  upon  the  Pole  at  about 
four  o'clock  of  the  afternoon  of  April  7. 
Some  effort  has  been  made  to  give  an 
adequate  impression  of  the  joy  with  which  that  remote 
spot  had  been  reached,  but  however  much  pleasure  we 
experienced  upon  reaching  it,  I  left  it  with  only  that 
tinge  of  sadness  that  sometimes  flashes  over  one  at 
the  thought,  "This  scene  my  eyes  will  never  see  again." 

Our  pleasure  at  being  once  more  upon  the  home- 
ward trail  was  somewhat  lessened  by  a  distinct  feeling 
of  anxiety  with  regard  to  the  task  that  still  lay  before 
us.  All  the  plans  for  the  expedition  were  formulated 
quite  as  much  with  an  eye  toward  a  safe  return  from 
the  Pole  as  toward  the  task  of  reaching  it.  The  North 
Pole  expedition  has  some  relation  to  the  problem  of 
flying:  a  good  many  people  have  found  that,  while 
it  was  not  so  very  difficult  to  fly,  the  diflBculties  of 
alighting  in  safety  were  more  considerable. 

It  will  be  remembered,  doubtless,  that  the  greatest 
dangers  of  the  expedition  of  1905-06  were  encountered 
not  upon  the  upward  journey,  but  in  the  course  of  our 
return  from  our  farthest  north  over  the  polar  ice, 
for  it  was  then  that  we  encountered  the  implacable 
"Big  Lead, "whose  perils  so  nearly  encompassed  the 
destruction  of  the  entire  party.    And  it  will  be  further 

302 


ATTEMPTED    SOUNDIXG.    APRIL   7,    1909 


GOOD   BY  TO   THE   POLE         303 

remembered  that  even  after  the  "Big  Lead"  was  safely 
crossed  and  we  had  barely  managed  to  stagger  ashore 
upon  the  inhospitable  edge  of  northernmost  Greenland 
we  escaped  starvation  only  by  the  narrowest  possible 
margin. 

Memories  of  this  narrow  escape  were,  therefore,  in 
the  minds  of  every  member  of  our  little  party  as  we 
turned  our  backs  upon  the  North  Pole,  and  I  dare 
say  that  every  one  of  us  wondered  whether  a  similar 
experience  were  in  store  for  us.  We  had  found  the 
Pole.  Should  we  return  to  tell  the  story?  Before 
we  hit  the  trail  I  had  a  brief  talk  with  the  men  of  the 
party  and  made  them  understand  that  it  was  essential 
that  we  should  reach  the  land  before  the  next  spring 
tides.  To  this  end  every  nerve  must  be  strained. 
From  now  on  it  was  to  be  a  case  of  "big  travel,"  little 
sleep,  and  hustle  every  minute.  My  plan  was  to  try 
to  make  double  marches  on  the  entire  return  journey; 
that  is  to  say,  to  start  out,  cover  one  northward  march, 
make  tea  and  eat  luncheon,  then  cover  another  march, 
then  sleep  a  few  hours,  and  push  on  again.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  we  did  not  fall  much  short  of  accom- 
plishing this  program.  To  be  accurate,  day  in  and  day 
out  we  covered  five  northward  marches  in  three  return 
marches.  Every  day  we  gained  on  the  return  lessened 
the  chances  of  the  trail  being  destroyed  by  high  winds 
shifting  the  ice.  There  was  one  region  just  above  the 
87th  parallel,  a  region  about  fifty-seven  miles  wide, 
which  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  concern  until  we  had 
passed  it.  Twelve  hours  of  strong  wind  blowing 
from  any  quarter  excepting  the  north  would  have 
turned    that   region   into   an   open   sea.     I   breathed 


304  THENORTHPOLE 

a    sigh    of    relief    when    we    left    the    87th    parallel 
behind. 

It  will  be  recalled,  perhaps,  that  though  the  expedi- 
tion of  1905-06  started  for  the  Pole  from  the  northern 
shore  of  Grant  Land,  just  as  did  this  last  expedition, 
the  former  expedition  returned  by  a  different  route, 
reaching  land  again  on  the  Greenland  coast.  This 
result  was  caused  by  the  fact  that  strong  winds  carried 
the  ice  upon  which  we  traveled  far  to  the  eastward 
of  our  upward  course.  This  time,  however,  we  met 
with  no  such  misfortune.  For  the  most  part  we  found 
the  trail  renewed  by  our  supporting  parties  easily  recog- 
nizable and  in  most  cases  in  good  condition.  Moreover 
there  was  an  abundance  of  food  both  for  men  and  for 
dogs,  and  so  far  as  equipment  went  we  were  stripped 
as  if  for  racing.  Nor  must  the  stimulating  effects 
of  the  party's  high  spirits  be  forgotten.  Everything, 
in  short,  was  in  our  favor.  We  crowded  on  all  speed 
for  the  first  five  miles  of  our  return  journey.  Then 
we  came  to  a  narrow  crack  which  was  filled  with  recent 
ice,  which  furnished  a  chance  to  try  for  a  sounding, 
a  thing  that  had  not  been  feasible  at  the  Pole  itself 
on  account  of  the  thickness  of  the  ice.  Here,  however, 
we  were  able  to  chop  through  the  ice  until  we  struck 
water.  Our  sounding  apparatus  gave  us  1500  fathoms 
of  water  with  no  bottom.  As  the  Eskimos  were 
reeling  in,  the  wire  parted  and  both  the  lead  and  wire 
went  to  the  bottom.  With  the  loss  of  the  lead  and 
wire,  the  reel  became  useless,  and  was  thrown  away, 
lightening  Ooqueah's  sledge  by  eighteen  pounds.  The 
first  camp,  at  89°  25',  was  reached  in  good  time,  and 
the  march  would   have  been  a  pleasant  one  for   me 


GOOD  BY  TO  THE   POLE         305 

but  for  my  eyes  burning  from  the  strain  of  the  con- 
tinued observations  of  the  previous  hours. 

After  a  few  hours'  sleep  we  hurried  on  again, 
Eskimos  and  dogs  on  the  qui  vive. 

At  this  camp  I  began  the  system  followed  throughout 
the  return  march,  of  feeding  the  dogs  according  to 
the  distance  covered;  that  is,  double  rationing  them 
when  we  covered  two  marches.  I  was  able  to  do  this, 
on  account  of  the  reserve  supply  of  food  which  I  had 
in  my  dogs  themselves,  in  the  event  of  our  being 
seriously  delayed  by  open  leads. 

At  the  next  camp  we  made  tea  and  ate  our  lunch 
in  the  igloos,  rested  the  dogs,  and  then  pushed  on 
again.  The  weather  was  fine,  though  there  were 
apparently  indications  of  a  coming  change.  It  took 
all  of  our  will  power  to  reach  the  next  igloos,  but  we 
did  it,  and  were  asleep  almost  before  we  had  finished 
our  supper.  Without  these  igloos  to  look  forward 
to  and  work  for,  we  should  not  have  made  this 
march. 

Friday,  April  9,  was  a  wild  day.  All  day  long 
the  wind  blew  strong  from  the  north-northeast,  in- 
creasing finally  to  a  gale,  while  the  thermometer  hung 
between  18°  and  22°  below  zero.  All  the  leads  that  we 
had  passed  here  on  the  upward  journey  were  greatly 
widened  and  new  ones  had  been  formed.  We  struck 
one  just  north  of  the  88th  parallel  which  was  at  least 
a  mile  wide,  but  fortunately  it  was  all  covered  with 
practicable  young  ice.  It  was  not  a  reassuring  day. 
For  the  last  half  of  this  march  the  ice  was  raftering  all 
about  us  and  beneath  our  very  feet  under  the  pressure 
of  the  howling  gale.     Fortunately  we  were  traveling 


306  THENORTHPOLE 

nearly  before  the  wind,  for  it  would  have  been  impossible 
to  move  and  follow  a  trail  with  the  gale  in  our  faces. 
As  it  was,  the  dogs  scudded  along  before  the  wind  much 
of  the  time  on  the  gallop.  Under  the  impact  of  the 
storm  the  ice  was  evidently  crushing  southward  and 
bearing  us  with  it.  I  was  strongly  reminded  of  the 
wild  gale  in  which  we  regained  "storm  camp"  on  our 
return  march  in  1906.  Luckily  there  was  no  lateral 
movement  of  the  ice,  or  we  should  have  had  serious 
trouble.  When  we  camped  that  night,  at  87°  47',  I 
wrote  in  my  diary:  "From  here  to  the  Pole  and  back 
has  been  a  glorious  sprint  with  a  savage  finish.  Its 
results  are  due  to  hard  work,  little  sleep,  much  expe- 
rience, first  class  equipment,  and  good  fortune  as 
regards  weather  and  open  water." 

During  the  night  the  gale  moderated  and  gradually 
died  away,  leaving  the  air  very  thick.  All  hands 
found  the  light  extremely  trying  to  the  eyes.  It  was 
almost  impossible  for  us  to  see  the  trail.  Though 
the  temperature  was  only  10°  below  zero,  we  covered 
only  Bartlett's  last  march  that  day.  We  did  not 
attempt  to  do  more  because  the  dogs  were  feeUng  the 
effects  of  the  recent  high  speed  and  it  was  desired  to 
have  them  in  the  best  possible  condition  for  the  next 
day,  when  I  expected  some  trouble  with  the  young  ice 
we  were  sure  to  meet.  At  this  spot  certain  eliminations 
which  we  were  compelled  to  make  among  the  dogs  left 
us  a  total  of  thirty-five. 

Sunday,  April  11,  proved  a  brilliant  day,  the  sun 
breaking  through  the  clouds  soon  after  we  left  camp. 
The  air  was  nearly  calm,  the  sun  seemed  almost  hot, 
and  its  glare  was  intense.     If  it  had  not  been  for  our 


o 
n 

K 
H 


GOOD   BY  TO   THE   POLE         307 

smoked  goggles  we  should  have  suffered  from  snow- 
blindness.  Despite  the  expectation  of  trouble  with 
which  we  began  this  march,  we  were  agreeably  dis- 
appointed. On  the  upward  journey,  all  this  region 
had  been  covered  with  young  ice,  and  we  thought 
it  reasonable  to  expect  open  water  here,  or  at  the  best 
that  the  trail  would  have  been  obliterated;  but  there 
had  not  been  enough  movement  of  the  ice  to  break 
the  trail.  So  far  there  had  been  no  lateral  —  east  and 
west  —  movement  of  the  ice.  This  was  the  great,  for- 
tunate, natural  feature  of  the  home  trip,  and  the 
principal  reason  why  we  had  so  little  trouble.  We 
stopped  for  lunch  at  the  "lead"  igloos,  and  as  we 
finished  our  meal  the  ice  opened  behind  us.  We  had 
crossed  just  in  time.  Here  we  noticed  some  fox 
tracks  that  had  just  been  made.  The  animal  was 
probably  disturbed  by  our  approach.  These  are  the 
most  northerly  animal  tracks  ever  seen. 

Inspirited  by  our  good  fortune,  we  pressed  on  again, 
completing  two  marches,  and  when  we  camped  were 
very  near  the  87th  parallel.  The  entry  that  I  made  in 
my  diary  that  night  is  perhaps  worth  quoting:  "Hope 
to  reach  the  Marvin  return  igloo  to-morrow.  I  shall  be 
glad  when  we  get  there  onto  the  big  ice  again.  This 
region  here  was  open  water  as  late  as  February  and 
early  March  and  is  now  covered  with  young  ice  which 
is  extremely  unreliable  as  a  means  of  return.  A  few 
hours  of  a  brisk  wind,  east,  west,  or  south,  would  make 
this  entire  region  open  water  for  from  fifty  to  sixty 
miles  north  and  south  and  an  unknown  extent  east 
and  west.  Only  calm  weather  or  a  northerly  wind 
keeps  it  practicable." 


308  THENORTHPOLE 

A  double  march  brought  us  to  Camp  Abruzzi,  86° 
38',  named  m  honor  of  the  farthest  north  of  the  Duke 
of  the  Abruzzi.  The  trail  was  faulted  in  several  places, 
but  we  picked  it  up  each  time  without  much  difficulty. 
The  following  day  was  a  bitterly  disagreeable  one.  On 
this  march  we  had  in  our  faces  a  fresh  southwest  wind 
that,  ever  and  again,  spat  snow  that  stung  like  needles 
and  searched  every  opening  in  our  clothing.  But  we 
were  so  delighted  that  we  were  across  the  young  ice 
that  these  things  seemed  like  trifles.  The  end  of 
this  march  was  at  "  Camp  Nansen,"  named  in  honor  of 
Nansen's  "Farthest  North." 

This  return  journey  was  apparently  destined  to  be 
full  of  contrasts,  for  the  next  day  was  one  of  brilliant 
sunlight  and  perfect  calm.  Despite  the  good  weather 
the  dogs  seemed  almost  lifeless.  It  was  impossible  to 
get  them  to  move  faster  than  a  walk,  light  though  the 
loads  were.  Henson  and  the  Eskimos  also  appeared 
to  be  a  bit  stale,  so  that  it  seemed  wise  to  make  a 
single  march  here  instead  of  the  usual  double  march. 

After  a  good  sleep  we  started  to  put  in  another 
double  march  and  then  we  began  to  feel  the  eflfects  of 
the  wind.  Even  before  we  broke  camp  the  ice  began 
to  crack  and  groan  all  about  the  igloo.  Close  by  the 
camp  a  lead  opened  as  we  set  out,  and  in  order  to 
get  across  it  we  were  obliged  to  use  an  ice-cake  ferry. 

Between  there  and  the  next  camp,  at  85°  48',  we 
found  three  igloos  where  Marvin  and  Bartlett  had 
been  delayed  by  wide  leads,  now  frozen  over.  My 
Eskimos  identified  these  igloos  by  recognizing  in  their 
construction  the  handiwork  of  men  in  the  parties 
of  Bartlett  and  Marvin.      The  Eskimos  can   nearly 


='^i^:ir^^*^^>^^ 


f«-...^ai^*Ai^-^*'"v.  *--•"■ 


.^#^'' 


PASSING  OVER  THE  BRIDGE 


GOOD   BY   TO   THE   POLE         309 

always  tell  who  built  an  igloo.  Though  they  are  all 
constructed  on  one  general  principle,  there  are  always 
peculiarities  of  individual  workmanship  which  are 
readily  recognized  by  these  experienced  children  of 
the  North. 

During  the  first  march  of  the  day  we  foimd  the 
trail  badly  faulted,  the  ice  breaking  up  in  all  direc- 
tions under  the  pressure  of  the  wind,  and  some  of  the 
way  we  were  on  the  run,  the  dogs  jumping  from  one 
piece  of  ice  to  another.  During  the  second  march  we 
saw  a  recent  bear  track,  probably  made  by  the  same 
animal  whose  track  we  had  seen  on  the  upward  jour- 
ney. All  along  here  were  numerous  cracks  and  narrow 
leads,  but  we  were  able  to  cross  them  without  any  great 
delay.  There  was  one  lead  a  mile  wide  which  had 
formed  since  the  upward  trip,  and  the  young  ice  over 
it  was  now  breaking  up. 

Perhaps  we  took  chances  here,  perhaps  not.  One 
thing  was  in  our  favor:  our  sledges  were  much  lighter 
than  on  the  upward  journey,  and  we  could  now  "rush" 
them  across  thin  ice  that  would  not  have  held  them  a 
moment  then.  In  any  event  we  got  no  thrill  or  irreg- 
ularity of  the  pulse  from  the  incident.  It  came  as  a 
matter  of  course,  a  part  of  the  day's  work. 

As  we  left  the  camp  where  we  had  stopped  for 
lunch,  a  dense,  black,  threatening  bank  of  clouds 
came  up  from  the  south  and  we  looked  for  a  gale,  but 
the  wind  fell  and  we  arrived  at  the  next  camp,  where 
Marvin  had  made  a  700-fathom  sounding  and  lost 
wire  and  pickaxes,  in  calm  and  brilliant  sunlight  after 
a  march  of  eighteen  hours.  We  were  now  approxi- 
mately one  hundred  and  forty-six  miles  from  land. 


310  THENORTHPOLE 

We  were  coming  down  the  North  Pole  hill  in  fine 
shape  now  and  another  double  march,  April  16-17, 
brought  us  to  our  eleventh  upward  camp  at  85°  8',  one 
hundred  and  twenty-one  miles  from  Cape  Columbia. 
On  this  march  we  crossed  seven  leads,  which,  with  the 
repeated  faulting  of  the  trail,  lengthened  our  march 
once  more  to  eighteen  hours.  Sunday,  April  18, 
found  us  still  hurrying  along  over  the  trail  made 
by  Marvin  and  Bartlett.  They  had  lost  the  main 
trail,  but  this  made  little  difference  to  us  except  as 
to  time.  We  were  able  to  make  longer  marches  when 
on  the  main  trail  because  there  we  camped  in  the 
igloos  already  built  on  the  upward  journey  instead 
of  having  to  build  fresh  ones  for  ourselves.  This 
was  another  eighteen-hour  march.  It  had  a  calm  and 
warm  beginning,  but,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  an 
extremely  uncomfortable  finish.  During  the  day  my 
clothes  had  become  damp  with  perspiration.  Moreover, 
as  our  long  marches  and  short  sleeps  had  brought 
us  round  to  the  calendar  day,  we  were  facing  the  sun, 
and  this,  with  the  southwest  wind,  burned  my  face  so 
badly  that  it  was  little  short  of  agonizing.  But  I  con- 
soled myself  with  the  reflection  that  we  were  now  less 
than  a  hundred  miles  from  land.  I  tried  to  forget  my 
stinging  flesh  in  looking  at  the  land  clouds  which  we 
could  see  from  this  camp.  There  is  no  mistaking 
these  clouds,  which  are  permanent  and  formed  of  the 
condensation  of  the  moisture  from  the  land  in  the  upper 
strata  of  the  atmosphere.  To-morrow,  we  knew,  we 
might  even  be  able  to  see  the  land  itself.  Meantime 
the  dogs  had  again  become  utterly  lifeless.  Three  of 
them  had  played  out  entirely.     Extra  rations  were  fed 


GOOD  BY  TO  THE   POLE        311 

to  them  and  we  made  a  longer  stop  in  this  camp, 
partly  on  their  account  and  partly  to  bring  us  around 
again  to  "night"  marching,  with  the  sun  at  our  backs. 

During  the  next  march  from  Sunday  to  Monday, 
April  18th  to  19th,  there  was  a  continuation  of  the 
fine  weather  and  we  were  still  coming  along  on  my 
proposed  schedule.  Our  longer  sleep  of  the  night 
before  had  heartened  both  ourselves  and  the  dogs, 
and  with  renewed  energy  we  took  to  the  trail  again 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  At  a  quarter 
past  two  we  passed  Bartlett's  igloo  on  the  north  side 
of  an  enormous  lead  which  had  formed  since  we  went 
up.  We  were  a  little  over  two  hours  crossing  this 
lead. 

It  was  not  until  eleven  that  night  when  we  again 
picked  up  the  main  trail,  in  Henson's  first  pioneer 
march.  When,  traveling  well  in  advance  of  the  sledges 
I  picked  it  up  and  signaled  to  my  men  that  I  had 
found  it,  they  nearly  went  crazy  with  delight.  The 
region  over  which  we  had  just  come  had  been  an  open 
sea  at  the  last  full  moon,  and  a  brisk  wind  from  any 
direction  excepting  the  north  would  make  it  the  same 
again;  or  the  raftering  from  a  north  wind  would  make 
it  a  ragged  surface  of  broken  plate  glass. 

It  may  seem  strange  to  the  reader  that  in  this 
monotonous  waste  of  ice  we  could  distinguish  between 
the  various  sections  of  our  upward  marches  and  recog- 
nize them  on  return.  But,  as  I  have  said,  my  Eskimos 
know  who  built  or  even  who  has  occupied  an  igloo, 
with  the  same  instinct  by  which  migratory  birds 
recognize  their  old  nests  of  the  preceding  year;  and  I 
have  traveled  these  arctic  wastes  so  long  and  lived  so 


312  THENORTHPOLE 

long  with  these  instinctive  children  of  Nature  that  my 
sense  of  location  is  almost  as  keen  as  their  own. 

At  midnight  we  came  upon  pieces  of  a  sledge  which 
Egingwah  had  abandoned  on  the  way  up,  and  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  19th  we  reached 
the  MacMillan-Goodsell  return  igloos.  We  had  cov- 
ered Henson's  three  pioneer  marches  in  fifteen  and 
one-half  hours  of  travel. 

Another  dog  played  out  that  day  and  was  shot, 
leaving  me  with  thirty.  At  the  end  of  this  march  we 
could  see  the  mountains  of  Grant  Land  in  the  far 
distance  to  the  south,  and  the  sight  thrilled  us.  It 
was  like  a  vision  of  the  shores  of  the  home  land  to 
sea-worn  mariners. 

Again,  the  next  day,  we  made  a  double  march. 
Starting  late  in  the  afternoon  we  reached  the  sixth  out- 
ward camp,  "boiled  the  kettle, "  and  had  a  light  lunch; 
then  plunged  on  again  until  early  in  the  morning  of  the 
20th,  when  we  reached  the  fifth  outward  camp. 

So  far  we  had  seemed  to  bear  a  charm  which  pro- 
tected us  from  all  diflSculties  and  dangers.  While 
Bartlett  and  Marvin  and,  as  I  found  out  later,  Borup 
had  been  delayed  by  open  leads,  at  no  single  lead  had 
we  been  delayed  more  than  a  couple  of  hours.  Some- 
times the  ice  had  been  firm  enough  to  carry  us  across; 
sometimes  we  had  made  a  short  detour;  sometimes  we 
halted  for  the  lead  to  close;  sometimes  we  used  an  ice- 
cake  as  an  improvised  ferry :  but  whatever  the  mode  of 
oyr  crossing,  we  had  crossed  without  serious  difficulty. 

It  had  seemed  as  if  the  guardian  genius  of  the 
polar  waste,  having  at  last  been  vanquished  by  man, 
had  accepted  defeat  and  withdrawn  from  the  contest. 


SOUNDING 


BREAKING    CAMP.      PUSHING   THE    SLEDGES    UP    TO    THE    TIRED    DOGS 


LAST  CAMP  ON  THE  ICE  ON  THE  RETURN 


BACK  ON  THE  "GLACIAL  FRINGE" 
(Laiici  Ice  of  Grant  Land  Near  Cape  Columbia,  April  23,  1909) 


GOOD   BY    TO    THE   POLE        313 

Now,  however,  we  were  getting  within  the  baleful 
sphere  of  influence  of  the  "Big  Lead,"  and  in  the 
fifth  igloos  from  Columbia  (the  first  ones  north  of 
the  lead)  I  passed  an  intensely  uncomfortable  night, 
suffering  from  a  variety  of  disagreeable  symptoms 
which  I  diagnosed  as  those  of  quinsy.  On  this  march 
we  had  brought  the  land  up  very  rapidly  so  that  I 
had  some  consolation  for  my  discomfort.  In  three  or 
four  days  at  the  most,  barring  accident,  our  feet 
would  again  press  land.  Despite  my  aching  throat 
and  no  sleep,  I  took  much  comfort  from  this  welcome 
thought. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


BACK   TO   LAND   AGAIN 


WE  had  now  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the 
"Big  Lead"  which  had  held  us  in  cheek 
so  many  days  on  the  upward  journey  and 
which  had  nearly  cost  the  lives  of  my  entire  party 
in  1906.  I  anticipated  trouble,  therefore,  in  the 
march  of  April  20-21,  and  I  was  not  disappointed. 
Although  the  "Big  Lead"  was  frozen  over  we  found 
that  Bartlett  on  his  return  had  lost  the  main  trail 
here  and  did  not  find  it  again.  For  the  rest  of  the 
ice  journey,  therefore,  we  were  compelled  to  follow 
the  single  trail  made  by  Bartlett  instead  of  our  well 
beaten  outward  trail.  I  could  not  complain.  We 
had  kept  the  beaten  road  back  to  within  some  fifty 
miles  of  the  land. 

For  me  this  was  the  most  uncomfortable  march 
of  the  entire  trip.  It  was  made  following  a  sleepless 
night  in  a  cold  igloo.  For  all  that  my  clothes  were 
wet  with  perspiration,  my  jaw  and  head  throbbed  and 
burned  incessantly,  though  toward  the  end  of  the 
march  I  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  the  quinine  I  had 
taken,  and  not  long  after  we  reached  the  captain's 
igloo  the  worst  of  the  symptoms  had  departed.  But 
it  was  hard  drilling  that  day,  and  our  troubles  were 
in  no  way  lessened  by  the  fact  that  the  dogs  seemed 
utterly  without  energy  or  spirit. 

314 


BACK  TO  LAND   AGAIN  315 

The  beautiful  weather  which  had  accompanied 
us  for  several  days  still  continued  on  the  next  day. 
It  was  really  a  surprising  stretch  of  splendid  weather. 
We  marched  six  hours,  then  stopped  for  luncheon, 
and  then  drilled  along  for  six  hours  more.  Repeatedly 
we  passed  fresh  tracks  of  bear  and  hare,  together  with 
numerous  fox  tracks.  Save  for  these,  the  march  was 
uneventful,  with  the  exception  of  two  narrow  leads 
which  we  crossed  over  thin  young  ice.  All  that  day 
the  sun  was  hot  and  blinding  to  an  almost  intolerable 
degree.  It  would  have  been  practically  impossible  to 
travel  with  the  sun  in  our  faces,  so  fierce  were  its 
rays.  Yet  all  this  day  the  temperature  ranged  between 
18°  and  30°  below  zero. 

The  last  day's  journey  before  we  reached  shore 
began  at  5  p.m.  in  that  same  brilliant,  clear,  calm 
weather.  A  short  distance  from  camp  we  encountered 
an  impracticable  lead  which  the  captain's  trail  crossed. 
In  one  fruitless  attempt  to  pass  it  we  got  one  of  our 
teams  in  the  water.  Ultimately  the  lead  swung  to 
the  east,  and  we  found  the  captain's  trail,  took  it  up, 
and  worked  around  the  end  of  the  lead. 

Only  a  short  distance  further  on  we  got  our  first 
glimpse  of  the  edge  of  the  glacial  fringe  ahead  of  us 
and  stopped  our  march  long  enough  to  take  some 
photographs.  Before  midnight  that  night  the  whole 
party  had  reached  the  glacial  fringe  of  Grant  Land. 
We  had  now  left  the  ice  of  the  polar  sea  and  were 
practically  on  terra  firma.  When  the  last  sledge  came 
to  the  almost  vertical  edge  of  the  glacier's  fringe  I 
thought  my  Eskimos  had  gone  crazy.  They  yelled 
and   called   and    danced    until    they   fell   from   utter 


316  THE   NORTH    POLE 

exhaustion.  As  Ootah  sank  down  on  his  sledge  he 
remarked  in  Eskimo:  "The  devil  is  asleep  or  having 
trouble  with  his  wife  or  we  should  never  have  come  back 
so  easily."  We  stopped  long  enough  for  a  leisurely 
luncheon  with  tea  ad  libitum  and  then  pressed  on  until 
Cape  Columbia  was  reached. 

It  was  almost  exactly  six  o'clock  on  the  morning 
of  April  23  when  we  reached  the  igloo  of  "Crane 
City"  at  Cape  Columbia  and  the  work  was  done. 
Here  I  wrote  these  words  in  my  diary: 

"My  life  work  is  accomplished.  The  thing  which 
it  was  intended  from  the  beginning  that  I  should  do, 
the  thing  which  I  believed  could  be  done,  and  that  I 
could  do,  I  have  done.  I  have  got  the  North  Pole 
out  of  my  system  after  twenty-three  years  of  effort, 
hard  work,  disappointments,  hardships,  privations, 
more  or  less  suffering,  and  some  risks.  I  have  won  the 
last  great  geographical  prize,  the  North  Pole,  for  the 
credit  of  the  United  States.  This  work  is  the  finish, 
the  cap  and  climax  of  nearly  four  hundred  years  of 
effort,  loss  of  life,  and  expenditure  of  fortunes  by  the 
civilized  nations  of  the  world,  and  it  has  been 
accomplished  in  a  way  that  is  thoroughly  American. 
I  am  content." 

Our  return  from  the  Pole  was  accomplished  in  six- 
teen marches,  and  the  entire  journey  from  land  to 
the  Pole  and  back  again  occupied  fifty-three  days,  or 
forty-three  marches.  It  had  been,  as  a  result  of  our 
experience  and  perfected  clothing  and  equipment,  an 
amazingly  comfortable  return  as  compared  with  pre- 
vious ones,  but  a  little  difference  in  the  weather  wotild 
have  given  us  a  different  story  to  tell.     There  was  no 


BACK  TO  LAND   AGAIN  317 

one  in  our  party  who  was  not  delighted  to  have  passed 
the  treacherous  lead  and  those  wide  expanses  of  young 
thin  ice  where  a  gale  would  have  put  an  open  sea 
between  us  and  the  land  and  rendered  our  safe  return 
hazardous,  to  say  the  least. 

In  all  probability  no  member  of  that  little  party 
will  ever  forget  our  sleep  at  Cape  Columbia.  We 
slept  gloriously  for  practically  two  days,  our  brief 
waking  intervals  being  occupied  exclusively  with 
eating  and  with  drying  our  clothes. 

Then  for  the  ship.  Our  dogs,  like  ourselves,  had 
not  been  hungry  when  we  arrived,  but  simply  lifeless 
with  fatigue.  They  were  different  animals  now,  and 
the  better  ones  among  them  stepped  out  with  tightly 
curled  tails  and  uplifted  heads,  their  iron  legs  treading 
the  snow  with  piston-like  regularity  and  their  black 
muzzles  every  now  and  then  sniffing  the  welcome  scent 
of  the  land. 

We  reached  Cape  Hecla  in  one  march  of  forty-five 
miles  and  the  Roosevelt  in  another  of  equal  length. 
My  heart  thrilled  as,  rounding  the  point  of  the  cape, 
I  saw  the  little  black  ship  lying  there  in  its  icy  berth 
with  sturdy  nose  pointing  straight  to  the  Pole. 

And  I  thought  of  that  other  time  three  years 
before  when,  dragging  our  gaunt  bodies  round  Cape 
Rawson  on  our  way  from  the  Greenland  coast,  I 
thought  the  Roosevelt's  slender  spars  piercing  the  bril- 
liant arctic  sunlight  as  fair  a  sight  as  ever  I  had  seen. 
As  we  approached  the  ship  I  saw  Bartlett  going  over 
the  rail.  He  came  out  along  the  ice-foot  to  meet  me, 
and  something  in  his  face  told  me  he  had  bad  news 
even  before  he  spoke. 


318  THENORTHPOLE 

"Have  you  heard  about  poor  Marvin?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  I  answered. 

Then  he  told  me  that  Marvin  had  been  drowned 
at  the  "Big  Lead,"  coming  back  to  Cape  Columbia. 
The  news  staggered  me,  killing  all  the  joy  I  had  felt 
at  the  sight  of  the  ship  and  her  captain.  It  was 
indeed  a  bitter  flavor  in  the  cup  of  our  success.  It 
was  hard  to  realize  at  first  that  the  man  who  had 
worked  at  my  side  through  so  many  weary  months 
under  conditions  of  peril  and  privation,  to  whose  efforts 
and  example  so  much  of  the  success  of  the  expedition 
had  been  due,  would  never  stand  beside  me  again. 
The  manner  of  his  death  even  will  never  be  precisely 
known.  No  human  eye  was  upon  him  when  he  broke 
through  the  treacherous  young  ice  that  had  but  recently 
closed  over  a  streak  of  open  water.  He  was  the  only 
white  man  in  the  supporting  party  of  which  he  was  in 
command  and  with  which  he  was  returning  to  the  land 
at  the  time  he  met  his  death.  As  was  customary,  on 
breaking  camp  he  had  gone  out  ahead  of  the  Eskimos, 
leaving  the  natives  to  break  camp,  harness  the  dogs, 
and  follow.  When  he  came  to  the  "Big  Lead,"  the 
recent  ice  of  which  was  safe  and  secure  at  the  edges, 
it  is  probable  that,  hurrying  on,  he  did  not  notice  the 
gradual  thinning  of  the  ice  toward  the  center  of  the 
lead  until  it  was  too  late  and  he  was  in  the  water. 
The  Eskimos  were  too  far  in  the  rear  to  hear  his  calls 
for  help,  and  in  that  ice-cold  water  the  end  must 
have  come  very  quickly.  He  who  had  never  shrunk 
from  loneliness  in  the  performance  of  his  duty  had 
at  last  met  death  alone. 

Coming  along  over  the  trail  in  his  footsteps,  the 


APPROACHING  THE  PEAKS  OF  CAPE  COLUMBIA  OVER  THE  SURFACE  OF 
THE  "glacial  fringe" 


crane   city  at   cape   COLUMBIA,    ON  TtlE   RETURN 


EGINGWAH   BEFORE  STARTING 
ON  THE   SLEDGE   TRIP 


EGINGWAH  AFTER  THE  HE- 
TURN  FROM  THE  TRIP 


OOTAil    liKFORE   STARTIXO    ON  OOTAII   AFTER  THE   RETURN 

THE  SLEDGE  TRIP  FROM  THE  SLEDGE  TRIP 

(Tlie  Portraits  at  the  I,eft  Were  Made  by  FlasliliKlit  nii  the  Ruosrrill  lief. ire  the  Jcmriiey. 
Those  on  the  Right  Were  Talceii  Immediately  After  the  Return) 


BACK  TO  LAND  AGAIN  319 

Eskimos  of  his  party  came  to  the  spot  where  the 
broken  ice  gave  them  the  first  hint  of  the  accident. 
One  of  the  Eskimos  said  that  the  back  of  Marvin's 
fur  jacket  was  still  visible  at  the  top  of  the  water, 
while  the  condition  of  the  ice  at  the  edge  seemed  to 
indicate  that  Marvin  had  made  repeated  efforts  to 
drag  himself  from  the  water,  but  that  the  ice  was  so 
thin  that  it  had  crumbled  and  broken  beneath  his 
weight,  plunging  him  again  into  the  icy  water.  He 
must  have  been  dead  some  time  before  the  Eskimos 
came  up.  It  was,  of  course,  impossible  for  them  to 
rescue  the  body,  since  there  was  no  way  of  their 
getting  near  it.  Of  course  they  knew  what  had 
happened  to  Marvin;  but  with  childish  superstition 
peculiar  to  their  race  they  camped  there  for  a  while 
on  the  possibility  that  he  might  come  back.  But 
after  a  time,  when  he  did  not  come  back,  Kood- 
looktoo  and  "Harrigan"  became  frightened.  They 
realized  that  Marvin  was  really  drowned  and  they 
were  in  dread  of  his  spirit.  So  they  threw  from  the 
sledge  everything  they  could  find  belonging  to  him, 
that  the  spirit,  if  it  came  back  that  way,  might  find 
these  personal  belongings  and  not  pursue  the  men. 
Then  they  hurried  for  the  land  as  fast  as  they 
could  go. 

Quiet  in  manner,  wiry  in  build,  clear  of  eye,  with 
an  atmosphere  of  earnestness  about  him,  Ross  G. 
Marvin  had  been  an  invaluable  member  of  the  expe- 
dition. Through  the  long  hot  weeks  preceding  the 
saihng  of  the  Roosevelt,  he  worked  indefatigably  look- 
ing after  the  assembling  and  delivery  of  the  count- 
less essential  items  of  our  outfit,  until  he,  Bartlett, 


320  THENORTHPOLE 

and  myself  were  nearly  exhausted.  On  the  northern 
voyage  he  was  always  willing  and  ready,  whether  for 
taking  an  observation  on  deck  or  stowing  cargo  in 
the  hold.  When  the  Eskimos  came  aboard,  his  good 
humor,  his  quiet  directness,  and  his  physical  competence 
gained  him  at  once  their  friendship  and  respect.  From 
the  very  first  he  was  able  to  manage  these  odd  people 
with  uncommon  success. 

Later,  when  face  to  face  with  the  stern  problems 
of  life  and  work  in  the  arctic  regions,  he  met  them 
quietly,  uncomplainingly,  and  with  a  steady,  level 
persistence  that  could  have  but  one  result,  and  I  soon 
came  to  know  Ross  Marvin  as  a  man  who  would  accom- 
plish the  task  assigned  to  him,  whatever  it  might  be. 
The  tidal  and  meteorological  observations  of  the 
expedition  were  his  particular  charge,  while,  during 
the  long  dark  winter  night,  his  mathematical  train- 
ing enabled  him  to  be  of  great  assistance  in  working 
out  problems  of  march  formation,  transportation  and 
supplies,  and  arrangements  of  the  supporting  parties. 
In  the  spring  sledge  campaign  of  1906  he  commanded 
a  separate  division.  When  the  great  storm  swept 
the  polar  sea  and  scattered  my  parties  hopelessly  in  a 
chaos  of  shattered  ice,  Marvin's  division,  like  my  own 
farther  north,  was  driven  eastward  and  came  down  upon 
the  Greenland  coast,  whence  he  brought  his  men 
safely  back  to  the  ship.  From  this  expedition  he 
returned  trained  in  arctic  details  and  thoroughly 
conversant  with  the  underlying  principles  of  all  suc- 
cessful work  in  northern  regions,  so  that  when  he  went 
north  with  us  in  1908,  he  went  as  a  veteran  who  could 
absolutely  be  depended  upon  in  an  emergency. 


BACK  TO  LAND  AGAIN  321 

The  bones  of  Ross  G.  Marvin  lie  farther  north 
than  those  of  any  other  human  being.  On  the  northern 
shore  of  Grant  Land  we  erected  a  cairn  of  stones,  and 
upon  its  summit  we  placed  a  rude  tablet  inscribed: 
"In  Memory  of  Ross  G.  Marvin  of  Cornell  University, 
Aged  34.  Drowned  April  10,  1909,  forty-five  miles 
north  of  C.  Columbia,  returning  from  86°  38'  N.  Lat." 
This  cenotaph  looks  from  that  bleak  shore  northward 
toward  the  spot  where  Marvin  met  his  death.  His 
name  heads  that  glorious  roll-call  of  arctic  heroes 
among  whom  are  Willoughby,  Franklin,  Sontag,  Hall, 
Lockwood,  and  others  who  died  in  the  field,  and  it 
must  be  some  consolation  to  those  who  grieve  for  him 
that  his  name  is  inseparably  connected  with  the  win- 
ning of  that  last  great  trophy  for  which,  through 
nearly  four  centuries,  men  of  every  civilized  nation 
have  suffered  and  struggled  and  died. 

The  Eskimos  of  whom  Marvin  was  in  command 
at  the  time  he  lost  his  life  fortunately  overlooked,  in 
throwing  Marvin's  things  upon  the  ice,  a  little  canvas 
packet  on  the  upstanders  of  the  sledge  containing  a 
few  of  his  notes,  among  them  what  is  probably  the 
last  thing  he  ever  wrote.  It  is  so  typical  of  the 
man's  intelligent  devotion  to  his  duty  that  it  is  here 
appended  as  he  wrote  it.  It  will  be  seen  that  it  was 
written  on  the  very  day  that  I  last  saw  him  alive, 
that  day  upon  which  he  turned  back  to  the  south 
from  his  farthest  north. 


"1 


'March  25,  1909.  This  is  to  certify  that  I 
turned  back  from  this  point  with  the  third  supporting 
party.  Commander  Peary  advancing  with  nine  men 


32^  THE   NORTH  POLE 

in  the  party,  seven  sledges  with  the  standard  loads, 
and  sixty  dogs.  Men  and  dogs  are  in  first  class  con- 
dition. The  captain,  with  the  fourth  and  last  support- 
ing party,  expects  to  turn  back  at  the  end  of  five  more 
marches.  Determined  our  latitude  by  observations 
on  March  22,  and  again  to-day,  March  25.  A  copy 
of  the  observations  and  computations  is  herewith 
enclosed.  Results  of  observations  wer6  as  follows: 
Latitude  at  noon,  March  22,  85°  48'  north.  Latitude 
at  noon,  March  25,  86°  38'  north.  Distance  made 
good  in  three  marches,  fifty  minutes  of  latitude,  an 
average  of  sixteen  and  two-thirds  nautical  miles  per 
march.  The  weather  is  fine,  going  good  and  improv- 
ing each  day. 

"Ross  G.  Marvin, 
"College  of  Civil  Engineering, 
Cornell   University." 

With  a  sad  heart  I  went  to  my  cabin  on  the 
Roosevelt.  Notwithstanding  the  good  fortune  with 
which  we  had  accomplished  the  return,  the  death  of 
Marvin  emphasized  the  danger  to  which  we  had  all 
been  subjected,  for  there  was  not  one  of  us  but  had 
been  in  the  water  of  a  lead  at  some  time  during  the 
journey. 

Despite  the  mental  depression  that  resulted  from 
this  terrible  news  about  poor  Marvin,  for  twenty-four 
hours  after  my  return  I  felt  physically  as  fit  as  ever 
and  ready  to  hit  the  trail  again  if  necessary.  But 
at  the  end  of  twenty -four  hours  the  reaction  came,  and 
it  came  with  a  bump.  It  was,  of  course,  the  inevitable 
result  of  complete   change  of   diet   and   atmosphere. 


BACK   TO   LAND   AGAIN  323 

and  the  substitution  of  inaction  in  place  of  incessant 
effort.  I  had  no  energy  or  ambition  for  anything. 
Scarcely  could  I  stop  sleeping  long  enough  to  eat,  or 
eating  long  enough  to  sleep.  My  ravenous  appetite 
was  not  the  result  of  hunger  or  short  rations,  for  we  had 
all  had  plenty  to  eat  on  the  return  from  the  Pole.  It 
was  merely  because  none  of  the  ship's  food  seemed 
to  have  the  satisfying  effect  of  pemmican,  and  I  could 
not  seem  to  hold  enough  to  satisfy  my  appetite.  How- 
ever, I  knew  better  than  to  gorge  myself  and  compro- 
mised by  eating  not  much  at  a  time,  but  at  frequent 
intervals. 

Oddly  enough,  this  time  there  was  no  swelling  of 
the  feet  or  ankles  and  in  three  or  four  days  we  all 
began  to  feel  like  ourselves.  Anyone  who  looks  at 
the  contrasted  pictures  of  the  Eskimos,  taken  before 
and  after  the  sledge  trip,  will  realize,  perhaps,  some- 
thing of  the  physical  strain  of  a  journey  to  the  Pole 
and  back,  and  will  read  into  the  day -by-day  narrative 
of  our  progress  all  the  details  of  soul-racking  labor 
and  exhaustion  which  at  the  time  we  had  been  obliged 
stoically  to  consider  as  a  part  of  the  day's  work,  in 
order  to  win  our  goal. 

One  of  the  first  things  done  after  reaching  the  ship 
and  bringing  our  sleep  up  to  date  was  to  reward  the 
Eskimos  who  had  served  us  so  faithfully.  They  were 
all  fitted  out  with  rifles,  shotguns,  cartridges,  shells, 
reloading  tools,  hatchets,  knives,  and  so  on,  and  they 
behaved  like  so  many  children  who  had  just  received 
a  boundless  supply  of  toys.  Among  the  things  I  have 
given  them  at  various  times,  none  are  more  important 
than  the  telescopes,  which  enable  them  to  distinguish 


324  THENORTHPOLE 

game  in  the  distance.  The  four  who  stood  with  me 
at  the  Pole  were  to  receive  whale-boats,  tents,  and 
other  treasures  when  I  dropped  them  at  their  home 
settlements  along, the  Greenland  coast  on  the  south- 
ward journey  of  the  Roosevelt. 


PERMANENT  MONUMENT  ERECTED  AT  CARE  COLUMBIA  TO  MARK  POINT 
OF  DEPARTURE  AND   RETURN  OF  NORTH   POLE    SLEDGE    PARTY 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

LAST   DAYS  AT   CAPE   SHERIDAN 

IT  is  not  long  now  to  the  end  of  the  story.  On 
returning  to  the  Roosevelt  I  learned  that 
MacMillan  and  the  doctor  had  reached  the  ship 
March  21,  Borup  on  April  11,  the  Eskimo  survivors 
of  Marvin's  party  April  17,  and  Bartlett  on  April  24. 
MacMillan  and  Borup  had  started  for  the  Greenland 
coast,  before  my  return,  to  deposit  caches  for  me,  in 
the  event  that  I  should  be  obliged  by  the  drifting  of 
the  ice  to  come  back  that  way,  as  in  1906.  (Borup, 
on  his  return  to  the  land,  had  deposited  a  cache  for 
me  at  Cape  Fanshawe  Martin,  on  the  Grant  Land 
coast,  some  eighty  miles  west  from  Cape  Columbia, 
thus  providing  for  a  drift  in  either  direction.) 

Borup  also,  with  the  aid  of  the  Eskimos,  built  at 
Cape  Columbia  a  permanent  monument,  consisting 
of  a  pile  of  stones  formed  round  the  base  of  a  guide- 
post  made  of  sledge  planks,  with  four  arms  pointing 
true  north,  south,  east,  and  west  —  the  whole  sup- 
ported and  guyed  by  numerous  strands  of  heavy 
sounding  wire.  On  each  arm  is  a  copper  plate,  with 
an  inscription  punched  in  it.  On  the  eastern  arm  is, 
"Cape  Morris  K.  Jesup,  May  16,  1900,  275  miles;"  on 
the  southern  arm  is,  "Cape  Columbia,  June  6,  1906;" 
on  the  western  arm  is,  "Cape  Thomas  H.  Hubbard, 
July  1,  1906,  225  miles;"  on  the  northern  arm,  "North 

325 


326 


THE   NORTH   POLE 


Pole,  April  6,  1909,  413  miles."  Below  these  arms,  in 
a  frame  covered  with  glass  to  protect  it  from  the 
weather,  is  a  record  containing  the  following: 


PEARY  ARCTIC   CLUB  NORTH  POLE  EXPEDITION,   1908 


Commander,  R.  E.   Peary,  U.   S.  N., 

Comdg.  Expedition. 
Captain    R.    A.   Bartlett,    Master   of 

Roosevelt. 
Chief  Engr.  George  A.  Wardwell. 
Surgeon  J.  W.  Goodsell. 
Prof.  Ross  G.  Marvin,  Assistant. 
Prof.  D.  B.  McMillan, 
George  Borup, 
M.  A.  Henson,  " 

Charles  Percy,  Steward.      ^ 
Mate  Thomas  Gushue. 
Bosun  John  Connors,     k' 
Seaman  John  Coadey.    " ' 
John  Barnes.     ^ 
Dennis  Murphy.  ^' 
George  Percy. 
2nd  Engr.  Banks  Scott. 
Fireman  James  Bently.  v 
Patrick  Joyce.  ^ 
Patrick  Skeans.   v 
John  Wiseman.     ^ 

1  Drowned  April  10th,  returning  from  86°  38'  N.  Lat. 

On  the  18th  MacMillan  and  Borup  with  five 
Eskimos  and  six  sledges  had  departed  for  the  Green- 
land coast  to  establish  depots  of  supplies  in  case  my 
party  should  be  obliged  to  make  its  landing  there 
as  in  1906,  and  also  to  make  tidal  readings  at  Cape 
Morris  Jesup.  I,  therefore,  at  once  started  two  Eski- 
mos off  for  Greenland  with  a  sounding  apparatus  and 
a  letter  informing  MacMillan  and  Borup  of  our  final 
success.    It  had  been  the  plan  to  have  Bartlett  make 


S.  S.  Roosevelt, 
June  12th,  1909. 
This  monmnent  marks  the  point  of 
departure  and  return  of  the  sledge 
expedition  of  the  Peary  Arctic  Club, 
which  in  the  spring  of  1909  attained 
the  North  Pole. 

The  members  of  the  expedition 
taking  part  in  the  sledge  work  were 
Peary,  Bartlett,  Goodsell,  Marvin,' 
MacMillan,   Borup,   Henson. 

The  various  sledge  divisions  left 
here  February  28th  and  March  Ist, 
and  returned  from  March  18th  to 
April  23rd. 

The  Club's  Steamer  Roosevelt  win- 
tered at  C.  Sheridan,  73  miles  east  of 
here. 

R.  E.  Peary,  U.  S.  N. 


LAST   DAYS   AT   SHERIDAN       327 

a  line  of  ten  or  five  mile  soundings  from  Columbia  to 
Camp  No.  8  to  bring  out  the  cross  section  of  the 
continental  shelf  and  the  deep  channel  along  it,  and 
Bartlett  had  got  his  equipment  ready  for  this  purpose. 
However,  I  decided  not  to  send  him  for  the  reason 
that  he  was  not  in  the  best  physical  condition, 
his  feet  and  ankles  being  considerably  swollen, 
while  he  was,  moreover,  afflicted  with  a  number 
of  Job's  comforters.  My  own  physical  condition, 
however,  remained  perfect  during  the  rest  of  our  stay 
in  the  north,  with  the  exception  of  a  bad  tooth  from 
which  I  suffered  more  or  less  torture  during  a  space 
of  three  weeks. 

This  was  the  first  time  in  all  my  arctic  expeditions 
that  I  had  been  at  headquarters  through  May  and 
June.  Hitherto  there  had  always  seemed  to  be  some- 
thing more  to  be  done  in  the  field;  but  now  the 
principal  work  was  completed,  and  it  remained  only  to 
arrange  the  results.  In  the  meantime  the  energies 
of  the  Eskimos  were  largely  employed  in  short  journeys 
in  the  neighborhood,  most  of  them  for  the  purpose 
of  visiting  the  various  supply  depots  established 
between  the  ship  and  Cape  Columbia  and  removing 
their  unused  supplies  to  the  ship.  Between  them  these 
various  small  expeditions  did  some  interesting  work. 
Most  of  this  supplementary  work  in  the  field  was 
accomplished  by  other  members  of  the  expedition, 
but  I  had  plenty  of  work  on  board  the  Roosevelt 
Along  about  the  10th  of  May  we  began  to  get  genuine 
spring  weather.  On  that  day  Bartlett  and  myself 
began  spring  housecleaning.  We  overhauled  the  cabins, 
cleared  out  the  dark  corners,  and  dried  out  everything 


THE   NORTH   POLE 

that  needed  it,  the  quarter-deck  being  littered  with 
all  kinds  of  miscellaneous  articles  the  whole  day. 
On  the  same  day  spring  work  on  the  ship  was  also 
begun,  the  winter  coverings  being  taken  off  the  Roose- 
velt's stack  and  ventilators,  and  preparations  being 
made  for  work  on  the  engines. 

A  few  days  later  a  beautiful  white  fox  came  to 
the  ship  and  attempted  to  get  on  board.  One  of  the 
Eskimos  killed  him.  The  creature  behaved  in  an 
extraordinary  manner,  acting,  in  fact,  just  like  the 
Eskimo  dogs  when  those  creatures  run  amuck.  The 
Eskimos  say  that  in  the  Whale  Sound  region  foxes 
often  seem  to  go  mad  in  the  same  way  and  sometimes 
attempt  to  break  into  the  igloos.  This  affliction  from 
which  arctic  dogs  and  foxes  suffer,  while  apparently 
a  form  of  madness,  does  not  seem  to  have  any  relation 
to  rabies  since  it  does  not  appear  to  be  contagious  or 
infectious. 

The  spring  weather,  though  unmistakably  the  real 
thing,  was  fickle  on  the  whole.  On  Sunday,  May  16, 
for  example,  the  sun  was  hot  and  the  temperature 
high,  and  the  snow  all  about  us  was  disappearing 
almost  like  magic,  pools  of  water  forming  about  the 
ship;  but  the  next  day  we  had  a  stiff  southwest  gale 
with  considerable  wet  snow.  On  the  whole,  it  was  a 
very  disagreeable  day. 

On  the  18th  the  engineer's  force  began  work  on 
the  boilers  in  earnest.  Four  days  later  two  Eskimos 
returned  from  MacMillan,  whom  they  had  left  at 
Cape  Morris  Jesup  on  the  Greenland  coast.  They 
brought  notes  from  him  giving  some  details  of  his 
work    there.     On    the    31st  MacMillan    and    Borup 


LAST   DAYS   AT   SHERIDAN       329 

themselves  arrived  from  Greenland,  having  made 
the  return  trip  from  Cape  Morris  Jesup,  a  distance  of 
270  miles,  in  eight  marches,  an  average  of  34  miles 
per  march.  MacMillan  reported  that  he  got  as  far 
as  84°  17'  north  of  Cape  Jesup,  had  made  a  sounding 
which  showed  a  depth  of  90  fathoms,  and  had  obtained 
ten  days'  tidal  observations.  They  brought  in  as 
many  of  the  skins  and  as  much  of  the  meat  as  the 
sledges  could  carry  of  52  musk-oxen  which  they  had 
killed. 

Early  in  June,  Borup  and  MacMillan  continued 
their  work;  MacMillan  making  tidal  observations  at 
Fort  Conger;  and  Borup  erecting  at  Cape  Columbia 
the  monument  which  has  been  already  described. 

MacMillan  while  taking  tidal  observations  at  Fort 
Conger  on  Lady  Franklin  Bay,  to  connect  our  work  at 
Capes  Sheridan,  Columbia,  Bryant,  and  Jesup  with 
the  observation  of  the  Lady  Franklin  Bay  expedition 
of  1881-83,  found  still  some  remains  of  the  supplies 
of  the  disastrous  Greely  expedition  of  1881-84.  They 
included  canned  vegetables,  potatoes,  hominy,  rhubarb, 
pemmican,  tea,  and  coffee.  Strange  to  say,  after  the 
lapse  of  a  quarter  of  a  century,  many  of  these  supplies 
were  still  in  good  condition,  and  some  of  them  were 
eaten  with  relish  by  various  members  of  our  party. 

One  of  the  finds  was  a  text  book  which  had  belonged 
to  Lieutenant  Kislingbury,  who  lost  his  life  with  the 
Greely  party.  Upon  its  flyleaf  it  bore  this  inscription: 
"To  my  dear  father,  from  his  affectionate  son,  Harry 
Kislingbury.  May  God  be  with  you  and  return 
you  safely  to  us."  Greely's  old  coat  was  also  found 
lying  on  the  ground.      This   also  was   in  good  con- 


330  THENORTHPOLE 

dition  and  I  believe  that  MacMillan  wore  it  for  some 
days. 

All  hands  were  now  beginning  to  look  forward  to 
the  time  when  the  Roosevelt  should  again  turn  her 
nose  toward  the  south  and  home.  Following  our 
own  housecleaning,  the  Eskimos  had  one  on  June  12. 
Every  movable  article  was  taken  out  of  their  quarters, 
and  the  walls,  ceilings,  and  floors  were  scrubbed,  dis- 
infected, and  whitewashed.  Other  signs  of  returning 
summer  were  observed  on  all  sides.  The  surface  of 
the  ice-floe  was  going  blue,  the  delta  of  the  river  was 
quite  bare,  and  the  patches  of  bare  ground  ashore  were 
growing  larger  almost  hourly.  Even  the  Roosevelt 
seemed  to  feel  the  change  and  gradually  began  to 
right  herself  from  the  pronounced  list  which  she  had 
taken  under  the  press  of  the  ice  in  the  early  winter.  On 
June  16  we  had  the  first  of  the  summer  rains,  though 
the  next  morning  all  the  pools  of  water  were  frozen 
over.  On  the  same  day  Borup  captured  a  live  musk 
calf  near  Clements  Markham  Inlet.  He  managed 
to  get  his  unique  captive  back  to  the  ship  alive,  but 
the  little  creature  died  the  next  evening,  though  the 
steward  nursed  him  carefully  in  an  effort  to  save  his 
life. 

On  the  summer  solstice,  June  22,  midnoon  of  the 
arctic  summer  and  the  longest  day  of  the  year,  it 
snowed  all  night;  but  a  week  later  the  weather  seemed 
almost  tropical,  and  we  all  suffered  from  the  heat, 
strange-  though  it  seems  to  say  it.  The  glimpses  of 
open  water  off  Cape  Sheridan  were  increasing  in 
frequency  and  size,  and  on  July  2  we  could  see  a  con- 
siderable lake  just  off  the  point  of  this  cape.    The 


LAST   DAYS  AT  SHEEIDAN       331 

4th  of  July  as  we  observed  it  would  have  pleased  the 
advocates  of  "a  quiet  Fourth, "  What  with  the  recent 
death  of  Marvin  and  the  fact  that  the  day  was  Sunday, 
nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  routine  was  done  except 
to  dress  the  ship  with  flags,  and  there  was  scarcely 
enough  wind  even  to  display  our  bunting.  Three 
years  ago  that  very  day  the  Roosevelt  got  away  from 
her  winter  quarters  at  almost  the  same  spot  in  a 
strong  southerly  gale;  but  the  experience  on  that 
occasion  convinced  me  that  it  would  be  best  to  hang 
on  in  our  present  position  just  as  late  in  July  as  possi- 
ble, and  thus  give  the  ice  in  Robeson  and  Kennedy 
Channels  more  time  to  break  up. 

It  almost  seemed  as  if  the  Roosevelt  shared  with  us 
our  anticipation  of  a  speedy  return,  for  she  continued 
gradually  to  regain  an  even  keel,  and  within  four  or 
five  days  she  had  automatically  completed  this  opera- 
tion. On  the  8th  we  put  out  the  eight-inch  hawser  and 
made  the  ship  fast,  bow  and  stern,  in  order  to  hold  her  in 
position  in  case  she  should  be  subjected  to  any  pressure 
before  we  were  ready  to  depart.  On  the  same  day 
we  began  in  real  earnest  to  make  ready  for  the  home- 
ward departure.  The  work  began  with  the  taking 
on  of  coal,  which,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  been 
transferred  to  shore  along  with  quantities  of  other 
supplies  when  we  went  into  winter  quarters,  in  order 
to  make  provisions  against  the  loss  of  the  ship  by 
fire,  or  ice  pressure,  or  what  not,  in  the  course  of  the 
winter.  The  process  of  getting  the  ship  ready  for  her 
homeward  voyage  does  not  require  detailed  description. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  it  furnished  the  entire  party  with 
hard  work  and  plenty  of  it  for  fully  ten  days. 


332  THENORTHPOLE 

At  the  expiration  of  that  period  Bartlett  reported 
the  ship  ready  to  sail.  Observation  of  conditions 
oflF  shore  revealed  the  fact  that  Robeson  Channel 
was  practicable  for  navigation.  Our  work  was  done, 
success  had  crowned  our  efforts,  the  ship  was  ready, 
we  were  all  fit,  and  on  July  18,  with  only  the  tragic 
memory  of  the  lost  lamented  Marvin  to  lessen  our 
high  spirits,  the  Roosevelt  pulled  slowly  out  from  the 
cape  and  turned  her  nose  again  to  the  south. 

Off  Cape  Union  the  Roosevelt  was  intentionally 
forced  out  into  the  ice  to  fight  a  way  down  the  center 
of  the  channel  in  accordance  with  my  deliberate 
program. 

For  a  ship  of  the  Roosevelt's  class,  this  is  the  best 
and  quickest  return  route  —  far  preferable  to  hugging 
the  shore. 

The  voyage  to  Battle  Harbor  was  comparatively 
uneventful.  It  involved,  of  course,  as  does  any  journey 
in  those  waters,  even  under  favorable  conditions, 
unceasing  watchfulness  and  skill  in  ice  navigation, 
but  the  trip  was  without  pronounced  adventure.  On 
August  8  the  Roosevelt  emerged  from  the  ice  and  passed 
Cape  Sabine,  and  the  value  of  experience  and  the 
new  departure  of  forcing  the  ship  down  the  center 
of  the  channel  instead  of  along  shore  will  be  appre- 
ciated from  the  fact  that  we  were  now  thirty-nine 
days  ahead  of  our  1906  record  on  the  occasion  of  our 
previous  return  from  Cape  Sheridan,  although  we  had 
left  Cape  Sheridan  considerably  later  than  before. 
The  voyage  from  Cape  Sheridan  to  Cape  Sabine  had 
been  made  in  fifty-three  days,  less  time  than  in  1906. 

We  stopped  at  Cape  Saumarez,  the  Nerke  of  the 


LAST  DAYS  AT  SHERIDAN       333 

Eskimos,  and  a  boat's  crew  went  ashore.  It  was 
there  I  first  heard  of  the  movements  of  Dr.  Frederick 
Cook  during  the  previous  year  while  absent  from 
Anoratok.  We  arrived  at  Etah  on  the  17th  of 
August.  There  I  learned  further  details  as  to  the 
movements  of  Dr.  Cook  during  his  sojourn  in  that 
region. 

At  Etah  we  picked  up  Harry  Whitney,  who  had 
spent  the  winter  in  that  neighborhood  in  arctic  hunting. 
Here,  also,  we  killed  some  seventy-odd  walrus  for  the 
Eskimos,  whom  we  distributed  at  their  homes  whence 
we  had  taken  them  in  the  previous  summer. 

They  were  all  as  children,  yet  they  had  served  us 
well.  They  had,  at  times,  tried  our  tempers  and 
taxed  our  patience;  but  after  all  they  had  been 
faithful  and  eflScient.  Moreover,  it  must  not  be 
forgotten  that  I  had  known  every  member  of  the 
tribe  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  until  I  had  come 
to  regard  them  with  a  kindly  and  personal  interest, 
which  any  man  must  feel  with  regard  to  the  members 
of  any  inferior  race  who  had  been  accustomed  to 
respect  and  depend  upon  him  during  the  greater  part 
of  his  adult  life.  We  left  them  all  better  supplied  with 
the  simple  necessities  of  arctic  life  than  they  had  ever 
been  before,  while  those  who  had  participated  in  the 
sledge  journey  and  the  winter  and  spring  work  on  the 
northern  shore  of  Grant  Land  were  really  so  enriched 
by  our  gifts  that  they  assumed  the  importance  and 
standing  of  arctic  millionaires.  I  knew,  of  course, 
that  in  all  probability  I  should  never  see  them  again. 
This  feehng  was  tempered  with  the  knowledge  of 
success;    but    it  was  not  without  keen  regret  that  I 


334  THENORTHPOLE 

looked  my  last  upon  these  strange  and  faithful  people 
who  had  meant  so  much  to  me. 

We  cleared  from  Cape  York  on  August  26,  and  on 
September  5  we  steamed  into  Indian  Harbor.  Here 
the  first  despatch  that  went  over  the  wires  was  to 
Mrs.  Peary:  "Have  made  good  at  last.  I  have  the 
Pole.  Am  well.  Love,"  followed  in  rapid  succession 
by  one  from  Bartlett  to  his  mother;  and,  among  others, 
one  to  H.  L.  Bridgman,  secretary  of  the  Peary  Arctic 
Club:  "Sun,"  a  cipher  meaning,  "Pole  reached, 
Roosevelt  safe."        , 

Three  days  later  the  Roosevelt  reached  Battle  Har- 
bor. On  September  13  the  ocean-going  tug  Douglas 
H.  Thomas  arrived  from  Sydney,  C.  B.,  a  distance  of 
four  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles,  bringing  Regan 
and  Jefferds,  representatives  of  the  Associated  Press, 
whom  I  greeted  by  saying,  "This  is  a  new  record  in 
newspaper  enterprise,  and  I  appreciate  the  compli- 
ment."  Three  days  later  the  Canadian  Government 
cable  steamer,  Tyrian,  in  command  of  Captain  Dick- 
son, arrived,  bringing  twenty-three  special  correspond- 
ents who  had  been  hurried  north  as  soon  as  our 
first  despatches  had  reached  New  York,  and  on  the 
21st  of  September,  as  the  Roosevelt  was  approaching 
the  little  town  of  Sydney,  Cape  Breton,  we  saw  a 
beautiful  sea-going  yacht  approaching  us.  It  was 
the  Sheelah,  whose  owner,  Mr.  James  Ross,  was 
bringing  Mrs.  Peary  and  our  children  up  to  meet  me. 
Further  down  the  bay  we  met  a  whole  flotilla  of  boats, 
gay  with  bunting  and  musical  with  greetings.  As 
we  neared  the  city,  the  entire  water-front  was  alive 
with   people.     The   little   town   to  which   I   had  re- 


LAST   DAYS  AT  SHERIDAN       335 

turned  so  many  times  unsuccessful  gave  us  a  royal 
welcome  as  the  Roosevelt  came  back  to  her  once  more, 
flying  at  her  mastheads,  besides  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
and  the  ensign  of  our  Canadian  hosts  and  cousins,  a 
flag  which  never  before  had  entered  any  port  in 
history,  the  North  Pole  flag. 

Little  more  remains  to  be  said. 

The  victory  was  due  to  experience;  to  the  courage, 
endurance,  and  devotion  of  the  members  of  the  expedi- 
tion, who  put  all  there  was  in  them  into  the  work; 
and  to  the  unswerving  faith  and  loyalty  of  the  officers, 
members,  and  friends  of  the  Peary  Arctic  Club,  who 
furnished  the  sinews  of  war,  without  which  nothing 
could  have  been  accomplished. 


APPENDIX  I 

Summary  of  Bathymetrical,  Tidal,  and  Meteor- 
ological Observations^ 

by  r.  a,  harris, 
Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey,  Washington,  D.C. 

Soundings.  —  Previous  to  the  expeditions  of  Peary, 
little  was  known  concerning  the  depths  of  that  portion 
of  the  Arctic  Ocean  which  lies  north  of  Greenland  and 
Grant  Land.  In  1876  Markham  and  Parr  at  a  point 
nearly  north  of  Cape  Joseph  Henry,  in  latitude  83° 
201',  and  longitude  63°  W., found  a  depth  of  72  fathoms. 
In  1882  Lockwood  and  Brainard  at  a  point  lying  north- 
erly from  Cape  May,  in  latitude  about  82°  38'  N.,  and 
longitude  about  51i°  W.,  sounded  to  a  depth  of  133 
fathoms  without  touching  bottom. 

The  motion  of  the  polar  pack  was  inferred  by  Lock- 
wood  from  the  existence  of  a  tidal  crack  extending  from 
Cape  May  to  Beaumont  Island.  Peary's  journeys 
along  the  northern  coast  of  Greenland  in  1900,  and 
upon  the  Arctic  ice  in  1902  and  1906,  firmly  estab- 
lished the  motion  suspected  by  Lockwood.  In  April 
of  the  years  1902  and  1906  he  found  an  eastward 
drifting  of  the  ice  due  to  westerly  or  northwesterly 
winds.  Moreover,  along  the  line  of  separation  be- 
tween two  ice-fields  the  northern  field  had  a  greater 
eastward  motion  than  had  the  field  to  the  south  of  the 

'Transmitted  by  O.  H.  Tittmann,  Superintendent,  Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey. 

337 


338 


APPENDIX    I 


line.  These  facts,  together  with  the  water  sky  observed 
to  the  north  of  Cape  Morris  Jesup  in  1900,  strongly 
indicated  the  existence  of  deep  water  between  Green- 
land and  the  North  Pole. 

Though  few  in  number,  the  soundings  taken  in  1909 
between  Cape  Columbia  and  the  Pole  are  of  great 
interest  to  geographers. 

The  accompanying  diagram  shows  the  results 
obtained. 


CO 


"^^^ 


3 


^ 

) 

>.^.i 


!0 


■0 


<0 


o 


^y 


r^-. 

ay-7' 

0 

^arrm 

63-21 

'»M/ak 

-     ^"^      D--»->      \ 

sao 

TOO 

M-Arfft™ 

. 

/tto 

.»««* 

w-^ 

/fOD 

.     .. 

?^y 

These  soundings  prove  the  existence  of  a  continental 
shelf  covered  by  about  100  fathoms  of  water  and  whose 
edge,  north  of  Cape  Columbia,  lies  about  46  sea  miles 
from  the  shore.  In  latitude  84°  29'  the  depth  was 
found  to  be  825  fathoms,  while  in  latitude  85°  23'  it 
was  found  to  be  only  310  fathoms.  This  diminution 
in  depth  is  a  fact  of  considerable  interest  in  reference 
to  the  possible  existence  of  land  to  the  westward. 

The  three  soundings  taken  between  the  point  of 
comparatively  shallow  water  and  the  Pole  failed  to 
reach  bottom.  The  one  made  within  five  sea  miles  of 
the  Pole  proved  the  depth  there  to  be  at  least  1500 
fathoms.     This  is  not  at  variance  with  the  northern- 


APPENDIX    I  339 

most  sounding  taken  by  the  Fram,  at  a  point  north  of 
Franz  Josef  Land  and  in  latitude  about  85°  20',  viz., 
1640  fathoms  and  no  bottom. 

Tides. — Tidal  observations  upon  the  arctic  coasts 
of  Grant  Land  and  Greenland  were  carried  out  under 
instructions  from  the  Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey,  this 
Bureau  having  been  ordered  by  President  Roosevelt 
through  the  Secretary  of  Commerce  and  Labor  to  have 
such  work  undertaken. 

The  object  was  to  secure  observations  along  the 
northern  coasts  of  Grant  Land  and  Greenland  at  a 
sufficient  number  of  places  for  determining  the  tides 
in  this  region;  it  being  the  belief  that  such  observations 
might  throw  light  upon  the  possible  existence  of  a 
"considerable  land  mass  in  the  unknown  area  of  the 
Arctic  Ocean." 

Systematic  tidal  and  meteorological  observations 
were  carried  on  day  and  night  at  Cape  Sheridan,  Point 
Aldrich  (near  Cape  Columbia),  Cape  Bryant,  Cape 
Morris  Jesup,  and  Fort  Conger  —  the  periods  of  time 
covered  at  these  stations  being  about  231,  29,  28,  10, 
and  15  days,  respectively.' 

The  tides  were  observed  upon  vertical  staves  or 
poles  held  in  position  by  means  of  stones  placed  around 
them  at  the  bottom  of  the  shallow  water  along  the 
coast.  At  Cape  Sheridan,  Point  Aldrich,  and  Cape 
Bryant  igloos  were  built  over  the  tide  staves.  These 
being  heated,  usually  by  means  of  oil-stoves,  the  ob- 
servers were  enabled  to  maintain  open  well-holes  with 
comparative  ease. 

'These  observations  were  made  by  Marvin  and  MacMillan,  assisted  by  Borup, 
seaman  Barnes,  and  fireman  Wiseman.  —  R.E.P. 


340 


APPENDIX    I 


In  order  to  secure  fixed  data  of  reference,  perma- 
nent bench  marks  were  established  on  the  land,  not 
far  from  the  igloos  or  tide  staves. 

The  ice-covering  of  the  water  nearly  obliterated  all 
wind  waves  which  generally  impair  the  accuracy  of 
staff  readings  made  in  open  bodies  of  water.  The 
measurement  of  the  height  upon  staff  of  the  surface  of 
the  water,  as  the  surface  rose  and  fell  in  the  well-holes, 
was  carried  on  with  great  precision,  a  fact  which  the 
plottings  of  the  observations  have  well  brought  out. 
The  observations  were  taken  hourly;  and  during  a  large 
percentage  of  the  time  these  were  supplemented  by 
observations  taken  more  frequently,  often  at  intervals 
of  ten  minutes  each. 

The  chronometer  used  in  connection  with  tidal  work 
was  compared  with  true  Greenwich  time  at  New  York 
before  and  after  the  cruise  to  the  Arctic.  The  com- 
parisons showed  that  during  this  period  of  461  days  the 
average  daily  gain  of  the  chronometer  was  2.2  seconds. 

The  mean  lunitidal  intervals  and  the  mean  ranges 
of  tide,  together  with  the  approximate  geographical 
positions  of  the  stations,  are  as  follows: 


Station 


Cape  Sheridan.  . 
Point  Aldrich  .  . 
Cape  Bryant .  .  . 
C.  Morris  Jesup 
Fort  Conger  .  .  . 
Fort  Conger' 


Latitude 

Longitude 

HW 
Interval 

LW 
Interval 

0                 / 

" 

' 

h        m 

h       m 

82     27 

61 

21 

10     31 

4      14 

83     07 

69 

44 

7     58 

1     50 

82     21 

55 

30 

0     03 

6     22 

83     40 

33 

35 

10     49 

4     33 

81      44 

64 

44 

11      35 

5     15 

81      44 

64 

44 

11     33 

5     20 

Mean  Rise 
and  Fall 

Feet 

1.76 

0.84 

1.07 

0.38 

4.06 

4.28 


'Results  from  Greely's  observations,  1881- 
two  years. 


covering  a  period  of  nearly 


APPENDIX    I  341 

The  harmonic  constants  for  these  places  will  be 
given  in  a  paper  on  Arctic  Tides  about  to  be  issued 
by  the  Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey. 

As  indicated  by  its  name,  a  "lunitidal  interval"  is 
the  time  elapsing  between  the  passage  of  the  moon 
across  the  meridian  of  the  place  or  station  and  the 
occurrence  of  high  or  low  water.  If  two  stations  have 
the  same  longitude,  then  the  difference  between  the 
limitidal  intervals  for  the  two  stations  denotes  the 
difference  in  the  times  of  occurrence  of  the  tides.  If 
they  have  not  the  same  longitude,  then  the  intervals 
must  be  converted  into  lunar  hours  (1  Itmar  hour  = 
1.035  solar  hours)  and  increased  by  the  west  longitude 
of  the  stations  expressed  in  hours.  The  result  will  be 
the  tidal  hours  of  the  stations  expressed  in  Green- 
wich lunar  time.  The  difference  between  the  tidal 
hours  for  two  stations  will  be  the  difference  in  the 
time  of  occurrence  of  the  tides  expressed  in  lunar 
hours. 

One  of  the  most  important  results  brought  out  from 
the  tidal  observations  of  the  expedition  is  the  fact  that 
high  water  occurs  two  hours  earlier  (in  absolute  time) 
at  Cape  Columbia  than  at  Cape  Sheridan.  The  Cape 
Columbia  tides  are  even  earlier  than  the  tides  along  the 
northern  coast  of  the  Spitzbergen  Islands.  These  facts 
prove  that  the  tide  at  Cape  Columbia  comes  from  the 
west.  It  is  the  Baffin  Bay  tide  transmitted,  first,  north- 
westerly through  the  eastern  portion  of  the  Arctic 
Archipelago  to  the  Arctic  Ocean,  and  then  easterly 
along  the  northern  coast  of  Grant  Land  to  Cape 
Columbia.  That  the  tide  wave  should  be  felt  after 
a  passage  of  this  kind,  instead  of  practically  disap- 


342  APPENDIX    I 

pearing  after  entering  the  Arctic  Ocean,  is  one 
argument  for  the  existence  of  a  waterway  of  limited 
width  to  the  northwest  of  Grant  Land.  This  suggests 
that  Crocker  Land,  first  seen  by  Peary  on  June  24, 
1906,  from  an  altitude  of  about  2000  feet,  may  form 
a  portion  of  the  northern  boundary  of  this  channel  or 
waterway. 

The  tides  along  the  northern  coast  of  Greenland 
are  due  mainly  to  the  large  rise-and-fall  occurring  at 
the  head  of  BaflBn  Bay.  The  Arctic  Ocean  being  of 
itself  a  nearly  tideless  body  so  far  as  semidaily  tides 
are  concerned,  it  follows  that  the  time  of  tide  varies 
but  little  as  one  goes  through  Smith  Sound,  Kane 
Basin,  Kennedy  Channel,  and  Robeson  Channel;  in 
other  words  there  exists  a  stationary  oscillation  in  this 
waterway.  The  northeasterly  trend  of  the  shore  line 
of  Peary  Land  beyond  Robeson  Channel  and  the 
deflecting  force  due  to  the  earth's  rotation  tend  to  pre- 
serve, far  to  the  northeastward  and  partly  in  the  form 
of  a  free  wave  of  transmission,  the  disturbance  result- 
ing from  the  stationary  oscillation  in  the  straits.  The 
tide  observations  indicate  that  this  disturbance  is  felt 
as  far  as  Cape  Morris  Jesup,  where  the  semidaily  range 
of  tide  is  only  0.38  foot.  At  Cape  Bryant,  northeast 
of  Robeson  Channel,  the  range  is  1.07  feet.  These 
values,  taken  in  connection  with  the  Robeson  Channel 
disturbance,  indicate  that  the  time  of  tide  along  the 
coast  of  Peary  Land  becomes  later  as  one  travels  east- 
ward from  Cape  Bryant. 

Owing  to  the  comparatively  short  distance  between 
Cape  Bryant  and  Cape  Morris  Jesup,  it  is  probable 
that  at  the  latter  point  the  crest  of  the  wave  trans- 


APPENDIX    I  343 

mitted  from  the  southwest  will  appear  to  arrive  much 
earlier  than  will  the  crest  of  the  wave  passing  between 
Spitzbergen  Islands  and  Greenland.  In  this  way  the 
small  size  of  the  semidaily  tide  at  Cape  Morris  Jesup, 
as  well  as  its  time  of  occurrence,  can  be  partially 
explained. 

A  no-tide  point  doubtless  exists  in  Lincoln  Sea,  off 
Peary  Land. 

The  semidiurnal  tidal  forces  vanish  at  the  Pole 
and  are  very  small  over  the  entire  Arctic  Ocean.  As  a 
consequence  the  semidiurnal  portion  of  the  tide  wave 
in  these  regions  is  almost  wholly  derived  from  the 
tides  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  The  diurnal  forces  attain 
a  maximum  at  the  Pole  and  produce  sensible  tides  in 
the  deeper  waters  of  the  Arctic  Ocean.  Such  tides  are 
essentially  equilibrium  tides  for  this  nearly  enclosed 
body  of  water.  The  diurnal  portion  of  the  Baffin  Bay 
tide  produces  the  diurnal  portion  of  the  tide  in  Smith 
Sound,  Kane  Basin,  and  Kennedy  Channel.  In  pass- 
ing from  Fort  Conger  to  the  Arctic  Ocean  one  could 
reasonably  expect  to  find  a  great  change  in  the  time  of 
occurrence  of  the  diurnal  tide  in  going  a  comparatively 
short  distance;  in  other  words  the  change  in  the 
tidal  hour  for  the  diurnal  wave  would  probably  be 
considerable  where  the  Baffin  Bay  tide  joins  the  arctic 
tide. 

Peary's  observa;tions  show  that  such  is  the  case. 
They  show  that  the  diurnal  tide  at  Cape  Bryant,  Cape 
Sheridan,  Point  Aldrich,  and  Cape  Morris  Jesup  follows 
that  at  Fort  Conger  by  respective  intervals  of  3^,  5, 
6,  and  8  hours.  They  also  show  that  in  going  north- 
ward from  Fort  Conger  to  Point  Aldrich  the  ratio  of 


344  APPENDIX    I 

the  two  principal  diurnal  constituents  approximates 
more  and  more  nearly  to  the  theoretical  ratio;  that 
is,  to  the  ratio  between  the  two  corresponding  tidal 
forces.  This  is  what  one  would  expect  to  find  in  pas- 
sing from  a  region  possessing  diurnal  tides  derived 
from  the  irregular  tides  of  Baffin  Bay  to  a  region  where 
the  equilibrium  diurnal  tides  of  the  Arctic  become 
important. 

The  range  and  time  of  occurrence  of  the  diurnal 
tide  at  Point  Aldrich  do  not  differ  greatly  from  their 
equilibrium  values  based  upon  the  assumption  of  a  deep 
polar  basin  extending  from  Grant  Land  and  the  Arctic 
Archipelago  to  the  marginal  waters  off  the  portion  of 
the  coast  of  Siberia  lying  east  of  the  New  Siberian 
Islands.  But  De  Long's  party  observed  tides  at 
Bennett  Island  in  1881.  From  these  observations  it 
is  seen  that  the  diurnal  tide  has  a  much  smaller  range 
than  would  be  permissible  imder  the  hypothesis  of  deep 
water  in  the  portion  of  the  Arctic  Basin  just  referred 
to.  The  diurnal  tides  at  Pitlekaj,  Point  Barrow,  and 
Flaxman  Island  are,  as  noted  below,  also  too  small  to 
permit  of  this  hypothesis.  The  smallness  of  the  diurnal 
tide  in  the  cases  cited  can  probably  be  explained  on  no 
other  assumption  than  that  of  obstructing  land  masses 
extending  over  a  considerable  portion  of  the  unknown 
region  of  the  Arctic  Ocean. 

No  further  attempt  will  be  made  here  to  prove  the 
necessity  for  a  tract  of  land,  an  archipelago,  or  an  area 
of  very  shallow  water  situated  between  the  present 
Arctic  Archipelago  and  Siberia.  A  brief  discussion  of 
this  question,  together  with  a  tidal  map  of  the  Arctic 
Regions,  will  be  found  in  a  paper  about  to  be  issued 


APPENDIX   I  345 

by  the  Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey  and  which  has  been 
already  referred  to.  A  few  pertinent  facts  may,  how- 
ever, be  mentioned. 

(1)  At  Point  Barrow,  Alaska,  the  flood  stream 
comes  from  the  west  and  not  from  the  north,  as 
the  hypothesis  of  an  extensive,  deep  polar  basin 
implies. 

(2)  The  semidaily  range  of  tide  at  Bennett  Island 
is  2.5  feet,  while  it  is  only  0.4  foot  at  Point  Barrow  and 
0.5  foot  at  Flaxman  Island,  Alaska.  This  indicates 
that  obstructing  land  masses  lie  between  the  deep 
basin  or  channel  traversed  by  the  Fram  and  the  north- 
ern coast  of  Alaska. 

(3)  The  observed  tidal  hours  and  ranges  of  tide  show 
that  the  semidaily  tide  is  not  propagated  from  the 
Greenland  Sea  to  the  Alaskan  coast  directly  across  a 
deep  and  uninterrupted  polar  basin. 

(4)  The  observed  ranges  of  the  diurnal  tides  at 
Tephtz  Bay,  Franz  Josef  Land;  at  Pitlekaj,  north- 
eastern Siberia;  and  at  Point  Barrow  and  Flaxman 
Island  have  less  than  one-half  of  their  theoretical 
equilibrium  values  based  upon  the  assumption  of  an 
uninterrupted  and  deep  polar  basin. 

In  addition  to  these  facts  are  the  following  items 
which  have  a  bearing  upon  the  shape  and  size  of  this 
imknown  land: 

The  westerly  drifting  of  the  Jeannette. 

The  westerly  drifting  north  of  Alaska  observed  by 
Mikkelsen  and  LeflSngwell. 

The  existence  of  Crocker  Land. 

The  shoaling  indicated  by  a  sounding  of  310  fathoms 
taken  in  Lat.  85°  23'  N. 


346  APPENDIX    I 

The  eastward  progression  of  the  tide  wave  along 
the  northern  coast  of  Grant  Land  as  shown  by  obser- 
vations at  Point  Aldrich,  Cape  Sheridan,  and  Cape 
Bryant. 

The  great  age  of  the  ice  found  in  Beaufort 
Sea. 

Items  of  some  importance  in  this  connection, 
but  which  cannot  be  regarded  as  estabhshed  facts 
are: 

The  probable  westerly  courses  taken  by  casks  set 
adrift  off  Point  Barrow  and  off  Cape  Bathurst,  the  one 
recovered  on  the  northeastern  coast  of  Iceland,  the 
other  on  the  northern  coast  of  Norway; 

The  question  suggested  by  Harrison  whether  or 
not  enough  ice  escapes  from  the  Arctic  to  account  for 
the  quantity  which  must  be  formed  there  if  one  were 
to  adopt  the  assumption  of  an  unobstructed  polar 
basin. 

Taking  various  facts  into  consideration,  it  would 
seem  that  an  obstruction  (land,  islands,  or  shoals) 
containing  nearly  half  a  million  square  statute  miles 
probably  exists.  That  one  corner  lies  north  of  Bennett 
Island;  another,  north  of  Point  Barrow;  another,  near 
Banks  Land  and  Prince  Patrick  Island;  and  another, 
at  or  near  Crocker  Land. 

Meteorology.  —  Regular  hourly  observations  of 
the  thermometer  and  barometer  were  carried  on  day 
and  night  by  the  tide  observers. 

A  brief  resume  of  the  results  obtained  is  given  below, 
together  with  a  few  taken  from  the  Report  of  the  Pro- 
ceedings of  the  U.  S.  Expedition  to  Lady  Franklin  Bay 
by  Lieutenant  (now  General)  A.  W.  Greely. 


APPENDIX   I 

Tempehatdhes 


347 


Cape  Sheridan 


November  14-30 

December,  1908   

January,  1909 

February,  1909  

March,  1909 

April,  1909 

May,  1909 

June,  1909 

November  17-Decenjber  13,  1908 
January  16-February  12,  1909  .  . 

May  17-May  22,  1909 

June  11-June  25,  1909 


Maximum 


-  7 

-  5 

-  6 

-  7 
+  13 
+  13 
+  46 
+  62 

-  7 
-21 
+  37 
+  50 


Minimum 


-39 
-63 
-49 
-49 

-52 
-37 
-15 
+  15 
-39 
-48 
+  12 
+  25 


Mean 


-  23.96 

-  29.22 

-  30.61 
-31.71 
-20.87 

-  16.63 
+  18.00 
+  31.51 

-  25.75 

-  35.48 
+  22.97 
+  34.17 


Fort  Conger  i 


Mean 


-  28.10 

-  38.24 

-  40.13 

-  28.10 

-  13.66 
+  14.08 
+  32.65 


Temperatutjtir 

Station 

Date 

Maximum 

Minimum 

Mean 

Point  Aldrich  near 

Cape  Columbia 

Cape  Bryant.  . 

Nov.  17-Dec.  13,   1908 
Jan.  16-Feb.  12,  1909 
May  17-May  22,  1909 
June  11-June  26,  1909 
June  11-June  25,  1882 
June  11-June  25,  1883 

-  14 

-  12 
+  35 
+  54 
+  44.4 
+  39.6 

0 

-46 
-56 
+  16 

+  28 
+  26.7 
+  26.4 

e 

-  31.96 

—  36  68 

Cape  Morris  Jesup  .... 
Fort  Conger 

+  27.92 
+  34  44 

Fort  Conger' 

+  34.883 
+  33.393 

Fort  Conger'  . 

From  these  values  we  see  that  from  November  17 
to  December  13,  1908,  the  average  temperature  at 
Point  Aldrich  was  6.21  degrees  lower  than  the  tempera- 
ture at  Cape  Sheridan  for  the  same  period;  that  from 
January  16  to  February  12,  1909,  the  average  tempera- 

»  Observations  made  in  1875-76  and  1881-83.  Greely's  Report,  Vol.  II,  p.  230. 
'  Greely's  Report,  Vol.  II,  pp.  196,  197,  220,  221.     Hourly  readings  used. 


348 


APPENDIX   I 


ture  at  Cape  Bryant  was  1.20  degrees  lower  than  that 
at  Cape  Sheridan;  that  from  May  17  to  May  22,  1909, 
the  average  temperature  at  Cape  Morris  Jesup  was 
4.95  degrees  higher  than  that  at  Cape  Sheridan;  and 
that  from  June  11  to  June  25,  1909,  the  average  tem- 
perature at  Fort  Conger  was  practically  the  same  as 
that  at  Cape  Sheridan  during  this  period. 


Bahombter  Readings  (Uncohrbcted) 


Station 


Date 


Maximum  Minimum       Mean 


Mean 


Cape  Sheridan 


Point  Aldrich 
Cape  Bryant. 
Cape  Morris  Jesup 
Fort  Conger  . 
Fort  Conger'. 
Fort  Conger^. 


Nov.  13-30,  1908  .  . . 

Dec.,  1908 

Jan.,  1909 

Feb.,  1909 

March,  1909 

AprU,  1909 

May,  1909   

June,  1909 

Nov.  17-Dec.  13,  1908 
Jan.  16-Feb.  4,  1909,  . 
May  14-May  22,  1909 
June  11-June  25,  1909 
Nov.  17-Dec.  13,  1908 
Jan.  16-Feb.  4,  1909.  . 
May  14-May  22,  1909 
June  11-June  25,  1909 
June  11-June  25,  1882 
June  11-June  25,  1883 


30.42 

30.27 

30.42 

30.59 

30.89 

30.58 

30.60 

30.21 

30.42 

30.40 

30.52 

30.10 

30.51 

30.10 

30.70 

30.19 

30.129 

30.218 


28.96 

29.28 

29.18 

29.03 

29.69 

29.20 

29.39 

29.37 

29.26 

29.18 

30.04 

29.47 

29.35 

29.83 

30.24 

29.74 

29.416 

29.590 


29.899 
29.749 
29.752 
29.772 
30.282 
29.991 
30.105 
29.804 
29.866 
29.691 
30.304 
29.834 
29.998 
29.976 
30.469 
30.013 
29.817 
29.949 


Fort  Conger" 

29.922 
29.796 
29.672 
29.893 
30.099 
30.066 
29.878 


The  above  tabulation  shows  that  during  the  month 
the  average  fluctuation  of  the  barometer  at  Cape  Sheri- 
dan amounts  to  1.2  inches,  being  greatest  in  February 
and  least  in  June. 


'  Observations  made  in  1881-83. 
'Greely's  Report,  Vol.   II,   pp. 
reduced  to  sea  level. 


Greely's  Report,  Vol.  II,  p.  166. 
122,  123,   146,   147.     Hourly  readings   are 


APPENDIX    I  349 

An  inspection  of  the  monthly  means  shows  that 
the  barometer  at  Cape  Sheridan  is  lowest  for  the  months 
of  December  and  January,  or  about  January  1st,  and 
highest  about  April  1st,  the  range  of  the  fluctuation 
being  about  0.5  inch.  These  results  agree  well  with 
those  obtained  by  Greely  at  Fort  Conger  and  illus- 
trated by  a  diagram  upon  p.  166,  Vol.  II,  of  his  Report. 

From  a  tabulation  made  according  to  hours  of  the 
day,  but  not  given  here,  there  is  seen  to  be  a  diurnal 
fluctuation  at  Cape  Sheridan  amounting  to  a  little 
more  than  rhy  of  an  inch.  The  minima  of  this  fluctu- 
ation are  fairly  well  defined  from  November  to  April 
and  occur  at  about  2  o'clock  both  a.m.  and  p.m. 

After  leaving  Etah,  August  17,  1908,  on  the  voyage 
northward  until  July  12,  1909,  thermograms  covering 
5|  months  and  barograms  covering  nine  months  of  this 
interval  were  obtained  from  self-recording  instruments. 
These  are  records  in  addition  to  the  direct  hourly  read- 
ings of  the  thermometer  and  barometer  made  by  the 
tide  observers  and  from  which  the  above  results  have 
been  deduced. 


APPENDIX    II 

Facsimiles  of  Original  Observations  by  Marvin,  Bart- 
lett,  and  Peary  and  of  Original  Certificates  by  Marvin 
and  Bartlett,  respectively,  during  the  Sledge  Journey 
to  the  Pole. 

I.     Marvin's  Observations,  March  22,  1909. 
II.     Marvin's  Observations,  March  25,  1909. 

III.  Certificate    of  Marvin    as   to   the    Position    of 

the  Expedition  on  March  25,  1909. 

IV.  Bartlett's  Observations,  April  1,  1909. 

V.     Certificate  of  Bartlett  as  to  the  Position  of  the 
Expedition  April  1,  1909. 
VI.     Peary's  Observations  April  6,  1909. 

[Note.  —  The  originals  were  all  made  in  pencil  in  notebooks.  The  engravings 
in  line  printed  in  this  appendix  are  reproductions  in  slightly  reduced  size  of  tracings 
carefully  made  of  the  original  manuscripts.  The  enclosing  line  in  each  case  indi- 
cates the  edges  of  the  leaf  on  which  the  original  work  was  written. 

The  size  of  this  leaf  is,  with  practical  uniformity  throughout  the  series,  4x6f 
inches.  The  facsimiles  of  Peary's  observations  of  April  7,  1909,  {q.  v.)  on  pages 
292  and  293  have  been  similarly  made  but  are  in  the  exact  size  of  the  originals. 
The  Publishers.] 


350 


APPENDIX   II 


351 


-t- 


^-0 


-1^- 


1.     (a)  FACSIMILE,   SLIGHTLY  EEDUCED   IN   SIZE,    OF  MARVIN's 
OBSERVATIONS  OF  MARCH  22,  1909 


352  APPENDIX    II 


\j(/\y\JUAAJ\y  t^JLoiiZM^ 


k[in.i  0 


I.     (b)    FACSIMILE,   SLIGHTLY  REDUCED  IN  SIZE,  OP    MAKVIN's 
OBSERVATIONS    OP   MARCH    22,    1909 


APPENDIX    II  353 


■V\JhAxXz^5A^jyf 


II.     (a)  FACSIMILE,  SLIGHTLY   REDUCED  IN  SIZE,  OF  MABVIN  S 
OBSERVATIONS    OF   MARCH    25,    1909 


354 


APPENDIX    II 


^  4.  ^ 


/  D 
^  t 

iS  0 

1    6 
3    0 


JO 

S  3 

^YTo 

3    L 

__J-^1 

-^"^^5"" 

J   ^ 

07 

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(!)  "g 


i,t 


-0  5^ 


n.     (6)  FACSIMILE,  SLIGHTLY  REDUCED  IN  SIZE,  OF  MAEVIN's 
OBSERVATIONS   OF   MARCH    25,    1909 


APPENDIX    II  355 


Hfe 


S  6 


Uo^^^'S^    -H 


^C-  3E 


II.     (c)  FACSIMILE,  SLIGHTLY  REDUCED  IN  SIZE,  OF  MAKVIN's 
OBSERVATIONS  OF  MARCH  25,    1909 


356 


APPENDIX   II 


T 


OVA/  A/)X>JjJ-tAJl 


iii.    (a)  facsimile,  slightly  reduced  in  size,  of  mar- 
vin's  certificate  of  march  25,  1909 


APPENDIX   II 


357 


(X/V\X 


III.     (6)  FACSIMILE,  SLIGHTLY   EEDTJCED    IN   SIZE,  OF   MAK- 
VIN's   CERTIFICATE  OF  MAECH  25,   1909 


358 


APPENDIX    II 


y>n^v4( 


III.     (c)  FACSIMILE,  SLIGHTLY   REDUCED    IN    SIZE,  OF   MAR- 
VIN's   CERTIFICATE  OF  MARCH  25,    1909 


APPENDIX   II 


359 


cr—o 


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I 


yVhnAyi^^ 


/J 


0  -r 

0    2. 


/J  •     2^-r-    6  7 


:lI^    3  ^ 


IV.     FACSIMILE,  SLIGHTLY  REDUCED   IN   SIZE,  OF  BAETLETT  S 
OBSERVATIONS  OF  APRIL  1,  1909 


360  APPENDIX    II 


^ ^,  s<^^^^    ^^ 


A  / 


V.     (a)  FACSIMILE,  SLIGHTLY  REDUCED  IN  SIZE,  OF  BART- 
LETT's   CERTIFICATE  OF  APRIL  1,    1909 


APPENDIX   II 


361 


/<  I  ft 


V.     (6)  FACSIMILE,  SLIGHTLY  REDUCED  IN  SIZE,   OF  BART- 
LETT's   certificate  of  APRIL  1,   1909 


362 


APPENDIX    II 


/Vv^-  Q7 


VI.    FACSIMILE,    SLIGHTLY    REDUCED    IN    SIZE,    OF    PEAEY'S 
OBSERVATIONS  OF  APRIL  6,  1909 


APPENDIX   III 

Report  of  the  sub-commitee  of  the  National  Geographic 
Society  on  Peary's  Records,  and  Some  of  the  Honors 
Awarded  for  the  Attainment  of  the  Pole. 

The  Board  of  Managers  of  the  National  Geographic 
Society  at  a  meeting  held  at  Hubbard  Memorial 
Hall,  November  4,  1909,  received  the  following 
report: 

"The  sub-committee  to  which  was  referred  the 
task  of  examining  the  records  of  Commander  Peary 
in  evidence  of  his  having  reached  the  North  Pole, 
beg  to  report  that  they  have  completed  their 
task. 

"Commander  Peary  has  submitted  to  his  sub- 
committee his  original  journal  and  record  of  observa- 
tions, together  with  all  his  instruments  and  apparatus, 
and  certain  of  the  most  important  of  the  scientific 
results  of  his  expedition.  These  have  been  carefully 
examined  by  your  sub-committee,  and  they  are  unani- 
mously of  the  opinion  that  Commander  Peary  reached 
the  North  Pole  on  April  6,  1909. 

"They  also  feel  warranted  in  stating  that  the 
organization,  planning,  and  management  of  the  expedi- 
tion, its  complete  success,  and  its  scientific  results, 
reflect  the  greatest  credit  on  the  ability  of  Com- 
mander Robert  E.    Peary,   and   render    him    worthy 

363 


364  APPENDIX    III 

of  the  highest  honors  that  the  National  Geographic 
Society    can  bestow  upon  him." 

(Signed)    Henry  Gannett.' 
C.  M.  Chester.^ 

O.    H.   TiTTMAN.' 

The  foregoing  report  was  unanimously  approved. 

Immediately  after  this  action  the  following  resolu- 
tions were  unanimously  adopted: 

"  Whereas,  Commander  Robert  E.  Peary  has  reached 
the  North  Pole,  the  goal  sought  for  centuries;  and 

"  Whereas,  this  is  the  greatest  geographical  achieve-' 
ment  that  this  society  can  have  opportunity  to  honor: 
Therefore 

"Resolved,  that  a  special  medal  be  awarded  to 
Commander  Peary." 

Among  the  home  and  foreign  honors  awarded  for 
the  attainment  of  the  pole  are  the  following: 

'  Henbt  Gannett,  chairman  of  the  committee  which  reported  on  Commander 
Peary's  observations,  has  been  chief  geographer  of  the  United  States  Geological 
Survey  since  1882;  he  is  the  author  of  "Manual  of  Topographic  Surveying," 
"Statistical  Atlases  of  the  Tenth  and  Eleventh  Censuses,"  "Dictionary  of  Alti- 
tudes," "Magnetic  Declination  in  the  United  States,"  Stanford's  "Compendium 
of  Geography,"  and  of  many  government  reports.  Mr.  Gannett  is  vice-president 
of  the  National  Geographic  Society  and  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  society 
in  1888. 

'  Rear-Admiral  Colby  M.  Chester,  United  States  Navy,  was  graduated  from 
the  United  States  Naval  Academy  in  1863.  He  has  held  practically  every  impor- 
tant command  under  the  Navy  Department,  including  superintendent  of  the 
United  States  Naval  Observatory,  commander-in-chief  Atlantic  Squadron,  Super- 
intendent of  the  United  States  Naval  Academy,  Chief  Hydrographic  Division, 
United  States  Navy.  Admiral  Chester  has  been  known  for  many  years  as  one  of 
the  best  and  most  particular  navigators  in  the  service. 

'  O.  H.  TiTTMAN  has  been  superintendent  of  the  United  States  Coast 
and  Geodetic  Survey  since  1900.  He  is  the  member  for  the  United  States  of  the 
Alaskan  Boundary  Commission  and  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  National 
Geographic  Society. 


THE    SPECIAL    GREAT    GOLD    MEDAL    OF    THE    NATIONAL    GEOGRAPHIC 

SOCIETY    OF   WASHINGTON 

(This  medal  is  four  inches  in  diameter) 


THE    SPECIAL    GREAT    GOLD    MEDAL    OF    THE    ROYAL    GEOGRAPHICAL 

SOCIETY    OF    LONDON.      (ACTUAL    SIZe) 

(Designed  by  the  wife  uf  Captain  Robert  F.  Scott,  R,  N.,  Leader  of  the  Britisli  South  Polar 

Expeditions  of  1901-1904  and  1910-1012) 


APPENDIX    III  365 

'^\'od5y!''^    ^°**^    ^'"^'^    "^    *^'   Philadelphia   Geographical 
The  Helen  Culver  Medal  of  the  Chicago  Geographical  Society. 
The  Honorary  Degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws  from  Bowdoin  College. 
The    Special   Great   Gold   Medal  of    the   Royal    Geographical 
society  of  London. 

The  Nachtigall  Gold  Medal  of  the  Imperial  German  Geograph- 
ical Society. 

The  King  Humbert  Gold  Medal  of  the  Royal  Italian  Geographical 
Society. 

The  Hauer  Medal  of  the  Imperial  Austrian  Geographical  Society. 
The  Gold  Medal  of  the  Hungarian  Geographical  Society. 
The  Gold  Medal  of  the  Royal  Belgian  Geographical  Society. 
The  Gold  Medal  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society  of  Antwerp. 
»A  Special  Trophy  from  the  Royal  Scot  ish  Geographical  Society 

—  a  replica  in  silver  of  the  ships  used  by  Hudson,  Baffin,  and 

Davis. 
The  Honora  y  Degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws  from  the  Edinburgh 

University. 
Honorary  Membership  in  the  Manchester  Geographical  Society. 
Honorary  Membership  in  the  Royal  Netherlands  Geographical 

Society  of  Amsterdam. 

^  At  Edinburgh,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  address  to  the  Royal  Scottish  Geo- 
graphical Society,  Lord  Balfour  of  Burleigh  presented  to  Commander  Peary  a. 
silver  model  of  a  ship  such  as  was  used  by  illustrious  arctic  navigators  in  the  olden 
times.  The  ship  is  a  copy  of  a  three-masted  vessel  in  full  sail,  such  as  was  in  use 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  model  is  a  beautiful  specimen 
of  the  silversmith's  aft.  On  one  of  the  sails  is  engraved  the  badge  of  the  Royal 
Scottish  Geographical  Society,  while  another  bears  the  inscription  in  Latin  from 
the  pen  of  Mr.  W.  B.  Blailde,  which,  translated,  is  as  follows: 

"This  model  of  a  ship,  such  as  was  used  by  John  Davis,  Henry  Hudson,  and 
William  BafiSn,  illustrious  arctic  navigators  of  the  olden  time,  has  been  presented 
by  the  Royal  Scottish  Geographical  Society  as  an  evidence  of  its  congratulation, 
admiration,  and  recognition  to  Robert  Edwin  Peary,  American  citizen,  an  explorer 
jf  the  frozen  Arctic,  not  less  daring  than  his  daring  predecessors,  who  was  the 
irst  to  attain  to  that  thrice-noble  goal  so  long  sought  by  innumerable  bold  mariners, 
;he  North  Pole.     Edmburgh,  May  24th,  1910." 


INDEX 


Advance,  s.8.,  xxii. 

Africa,  75. 

Agrotmd,  113. 

Ahteah,  131. 

Ahtetah,  178. 

Ahwatingwah,  141,  236. 

Akatingwah,  60. 

Alarm  of  fire,  35. 

Alaska,  344,  345. 

Aldrich,  xxiii. 

AleH,  S.S.,  91,  129,  184. 

Aletah,  117, 141. 

Alps,  166. 

American,  flag,  30,  294,  296,  336;  route, 

5. 
Amundsen,  Roald,  xxi. 
Amusements,  109,  181. 
Andree,  xxvi. 
Angakok,  66. 
Anniversary  Lodge,  130. 
Anoratok,  55,  76,  333. 
Antarctic,  xx. 
"Antarctica,"  180. 
"Antarctic  Regions,  The,"  180. 
Arco,  141,  213,  235. 
Arctic,   Archipelago,   341,   344;  Circle, 

xvi;  (crossing   the,  36),  53,  79,  186; 

fisheries,  xv;  hares,  54,  110,  127,  138, 

182,  189,  315;  moon,  163;  night,  37; 

Ocean,  4,  49,  193,  216,  337-344. 
Asia,  xvi,  75. 
Associated  Press,  334. 
Astronomical  observations,  211. 
Astrup,  xxix. 

Atlantic  Ocean,  xx,  xxi,  343. 
Aurora,  186. 
Austrian-Hungarian  expedition,  xxvii. 

Back  River,  xx.  \ 

Baffin  Bay,  xxi,  xxvii,  3,  88,  90,  341- 

343. 
Baffin,  William,  xxvii. 
Balch,  180. 
Bald  Head,  33. 
Balfour,  Lord,  365. 
Banks  Land,  346. 


Barents,  William,  xv,  xxvii. 

Barnes,  John,  23,  167,  326. 

Barometer  reading,  348. 

Bartlett,  Robert,  76. 

Bartlett,  Capt.  Robert  A.,  appreciation 
of,  269;  career,  19,  20;  decorating  the 
ship,  130;  delayed  by  leads,  308,  312; 
departure  from  Roosevelt,  213;  des- 
patch to  his  mother,  334,  dynamiting 
the  ice,  115;  facsimile  of  certificate, 
360,  361;  facsimile  of  observations, 
359;  farthest  north,  267;  hunting, 
141,  179,  182,  191;  in  crow's  nest, 
105;  master  of  the  Roosevelt,  23,  111, 
326;  pioneer  division,  203,  205,  214, 
237,  241;  returning  to  Roosevelt,  325; 
sounding,  262;  taking  observations, 
266,  268;  trail,  310,  314. 

Bartlett,  Capt.  Sam,  76. 

Bathurst,  Cape,  345. 

Battle  Harbor,  332,  334. 

Bay,  Baffin,  xxi,  xxvii,  3,  88,  90,  341- 
343;  Black  Cliffs,  130,  179;  Cape 
York,  55;  Casco,  27;  Dobbin,  99; 
Independence,  xxix,  151,  276;  James 
Ross,  143,  144,  155,  179;  Lady 
Franklin,  78,  329;  Lincoln,  93,  106, 
110,  112,  117,  118;  McCormick,  xxix; 
Melville,  36,  37,  39,40,  53;  Newman, 
188;  North  Star,  38,  73;  of  Pundy, 
168;  of  Naples,  74;  Oyster,  26; 
Porter,  118,  120,  134,  140,  142,  143, 
276;  Princess  Marie,  100;  Robertson, 
74;  Teplitz-  345. 

Beaufort  Sea,  345. 

Beaumont  Island,  337. 

Beechy,  Cape,  90. 

Belknap,  Cape,  134,  138,  188. 

Benedict,  H.  H.,  31. 

Bennett  Island,  344-346 

Bently,  James,  23,  326 

Bering,  Sea,  xvii,  xx,  xxi;  Strait,  xxi, 
290. 

"Big  Lead,"  crossed,  232,  314;  de- 
scribed, 197,  237;  Eskimos'  fear  of, 
191. 


367 


368 


INDEX 


Black  Cape,  118,  119;  River,  120. 

Black  Cliffs  Bay,  130,  179. 

Blackwell's  Island,  25,  26. 

Booth,  Felix,  xviii,  xix. 

Boothia  Felix,  xix. 

Borchgrevink,  180. 

Borup,  Col.,  29. 

Borup,  George,  account  of  walrus 
hunting,  80-87;  added  to  expedition, 
21;  built  monument  at  Cape  Colum- 
bia, 325;  captured  musk-ox  calf,  330; 
career,  22;  celebrating,  184;  delayed 
by  leads,  312;  deposited  cache  at 
Cape  Fanshawe  Martin,  325;  divi- 
sion, 203,214,237,  241 ;  farthest  north 
243;  hunting,  141,  156,  179,  188,  330; 
return  to  Roosevelt,  325;  taking  obser- 
vations, 168;  tui'ned  back,  243. 

Bowdoin  College,  xxviii,  296;  degree  of 
LL.D.,  365. 

Box  houses,  123,  177,  178,  188. 

Brainard,  xxiii,  337. 

Breton,  Cape,  28. 

Brevoort,  Cape,  188;  Island,  90. 

Bridgman,  Herbert  L.,  16,  26,  27,  334. 

British  Arctic  ejcpedition,  38,  129. 

Bryant,  Cape,  168,  188,  190,  191,  33.9- 
348. 

By-pass,  101,  104. 

Cabot  Strait,  35. 

Cache  of  supplies,  110, 119, 191. 

Cagni,  xxvi. 

Cairn,  Alert,  129;  Roosevelt,  129. 

Camp,  Abruzzi,  308;  Morris  K.  Jesup, 
290;  No.  4,  237;  No.  5,  237;  No.  8, 
327;  No.  11,  310;  No.  19,  249. 

Canada,  xx,  334,  335. 

Cantilever,  55. 

Cape,  Bathurst,  345;  Beechey,  90; 
Belknap,  134,  138,  188;  Breton,  28; 
Brevoort,  188;  Bryant,  168,  188,  190. 
191,  339-348;  Colan,  134,  179,  190, 
191;  Columbia,  4,  6,  7,  130-237,  280, 
295,  310-329,  338-341,  347;  Fan- 
shawe Martin,  325;  Farewell,  xv, 
Frazer,  91;  Hecla,  141,  159,  190,  217, 
226,  280,  317;  Joseph  Henry,  92,  222, 
337;  Lieber,  102;  May,  337;  Morris 
K.  Jesup,  13,  21,  253,  254,  295,  326, 
328,  338,  348;  Rawson,  120,  317; 
Richardson,  134,  138;  140,  168; 
Sabine,  39,  89,  94,  95,  124,  332; 
Saumarez,  74,  332;  Sheridan,  5,  6, 
38,  77,  88-129,  157,  168,  178,  193, 
213,    325,    330,    332,    339-349;    St. 


Charles,  34;  St.  George,  35;  Thomas 

Hubbard,  21,  110,  295,  325;  Union, 

110,  118,  188,  332;  York,  32,  35,  39- 

46,  70-73,  271,  334. 
Cape  Sheridan  River,  184. 
Cape  York  Bay,  55 
Carnegie  Institution,  76. 
Cary  Islands,  38. 
Casco  Bay,  27. 
Central  Polar  Sea,  38. 
Char,  128. 
Chester,  C.  M.,  363. 
Chicago  Geographical  Society,  medal  of, 

366. 
China,  xv,  169. 
Christmas,  185. 
Clark,  271. 
Clements    Markham    Inlet,    141,    146, 

156,  157,  179,  188,  190,  330. 
Coady,  John,  23,  326. 
Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey,  337,  339, 

340. 
Colan,  Cape,  134,  179,  190,  191. 
CoUinson,  Richard,  xxi. 
Columbia,  Cape,  4,  6,  7,  130-237,  280. 

295,  310-329,  338-341,  347. 
Columbus,  xxxii. 
Connors,  John,  23,  326. 
Cook,  Dr.  Frederick  A.,  75,  76,  333. 
Coppermine  River,  xix. 
Cornell  University,  252,  254.  322. 
Crafts.  C.  C,  76. 
"Crane  City,"  223,  316. 
Crane,  Zenas,  16,  25. 
"Crimson  Cliffs,"  72. 
Crocker  Land,  5,  341,  345,  346. 
Crow's  nest,  105,  112. 
Crozier,  xix,  xx. 

Daily  ration,  209. 

Dante,  255. 

Daughters  of  the  American  Revolution, 

30. 
Davis,  John,  xv. 
Davis  Strait,  xxi,  3,  73. 
Dawn,  160. 

Deep-sea  soundings,  210. 
Deer,  65,  87,  138,  140,  144,  145,  182. 
De  Long,  Com.,  xxiv,  344. 
Delta  Kappa  Epsilon   Fraternity,  30, 

296. 
Departure  from  Roosevelt,  2?  **. 
Diagram  of  soundings.  338. 
Dickson,  Capt.,  331. 
Discovery,  s.s.,  91. 
Dividing  line,  40. 


INDEX 


369 


ibbin  Bay,  99. 

>gs,  Eskimo,  condition  of,  169;  feeding 

an  return  march,  305;  harnesses,  136. 

mglas  H.  Thomas,  s.s.,  334. 

ick  Islands,  37,  38,  39. 

ike  of  the  Abruzzi,  12,  180,  236,  252, 

254,  298,  308. 

'^le,  S.S.,  28. 
igle  Island,  27,  28,  31. 
i3t  Greenland,  xxvii. 
linburgh  University,  Degree  of  ll.d. 
365. 

3ngwah,  69,  76,  142,  143,  146,  147, 
148,  167,  251,  267,  269,  271,  299,  312. 
der-ducks,  138. 
lesmere  Land,  76,  89,  90,  93. 
nergency  outfit,  96. 
ebus,  S.S.,  XX. 
■ik,  B.8.,  73,  74,  75,  76,  77. 
ikimos,  astronomers,  67;  burial  cus- 
toms,    65;  characteristics     of,     46; 
clothing,    131;  dogs,     70,     135,    169; 
fear  of  "Big  Lead,"  191;  fish  spear, 
127;   home  of  a  little  tribe  of,   36, 
39;  housecleaning  on  Roosevelt,  330; 
human   qualities,   44;  language,   50; 
marriage,  59;  method  of  fishing,  127; 
money,    72;  music,    65;  of    Danish 
Greenland,  46;  on  shipboard,  98;  re- 
ligion,   63;    rewarded,    323;    sledge, 
135,   217,    219,    237;    theory  as    to 
origin,  49;  villages,  42;  whip,  136. 
ah,  6,  38,  39,  43,  46,  73,  79,  88,  89,  90, 
91,  95,  96,  103,  106,  124,  170,  213, 
333. 

cpedition,  Austrian-Hungarian,  xxvi-; 
British  Arctic,  38,  129;  first  of  Peary 
Arctic  Club,  11,  12;  German  North 
Polar,  xxvii;  Greely's,  329;  Hayes', 
38;  Kalstenius,  38;  Koldewey's,  180; 
Lady  Franklin  Bay,  168;  of  1905-6, 
2,  91,  184,  302;  Polaris,  38. 

mshawe  Martin,  Cape,  325. 

Farthest  North"  of  1906,  188. 

irewell.  Cape,  xv. 

eld  work,  188. 

rst  Despatch  from  Peary,  334. 

ag,    American,    30,    294,    296,    335; 

North  Pole,  335. 

axman  Island,  344,  345. 

)rt  Conger,  93, 148,  168,  329,  339-348. 

)rt  Totten,  26. 

mrth  of  July,  331. 

)X,  54,  127,  257,  307,  315,  328. 


Fram,  s.s.,  xxv,  121,  338,  345. 

Franke,  Rudolph,  75. 

Franklin,  Lady,  xx. 

Franklin,  Sir   John,  xix,  9,  298,  321, 

record  of  death,  xxi. 
Franz  Josef  Land,  xxvi. 
Frazer,  Cape,  91. 
Frederiksthaal,  xxvii. 
Fricker,  Carl,  180. 

Gannett,  Henry,  363. 

Generosity  of  the  public,  18. 

German  North  Polar  expedition,  xxvii. 

Ojoa,  sloop,  xxi. 

Glacial  fringe,  194,  216,  314,  315. 

Goodsell,  Dr.  J.  W.,  career,  21; 
extract  from  his  journal,  157;  explor- 
mg,  106,  128;  hunting,  141,  179,  188; 
moving  supplies,  138,  191;  reached 
ship,  325;  recording  temperature, 
190;  slips  from  floe,  108;  turns  back, 
235. 

Grant  Land,  4,  6,  7,  38,  40,  90,  93,  134, 
142,  168,  179,  193,  195,  300-315. 

Great  Britain,  xv,  xxiii,  269. 

Great  Fish  River,  xix. 

Great  Greenland  ice-cap,  xxix,  53,  275, 
276,  284. 

"Great  Night,"  161,  183. 

Greely,  Lieut.  A.  W.,  xxx,  xxxi,  39,  94, 
180,  329,  340,  346,  348. 

Greenland,  xxiii,  xxix,  xxx,  4, 11,  28,  32, 
38,  45,  60,  89,  90,  102,  130, 187,  188, 
195,  211-219,  303,  304,  325,  337; 
storms,  166;  Sea,  345. 

Grirmell,  Henry,  xxii. 

Grinnell  Land,  49. 

Grosvenor,  Gilbert  H.,  xxxii. 

Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  101. 

Gushue,  Thomas,  23,  112,  326. 

Hakluyt  Island,  73. 

Hall  Basin,  xxii. 

Hall,  Chas.  Francis,  xxii,  3,  180,  328. 

Hares,  arctic,  54,    110,   127,  138,  182, 

189,  315. 
Hareskin  stockings,  257. 
Harkness,  34,  35. 
"Harrigan,"  132,  203,  253,  319. 
Harris,  R.  A.,  337. 
Harrison,  345. 
Hawks  Harbor,  34. 
Hayes,  38,  180. 
Hecla,  Cape,  141,  159,  190,  217,  226, 

280. 
Henry  VIII  of  England,  xv. 


370 


INDEX 


Henson,  Matthew,  at  the  Pole,  296; 
career,  20;  celebrating,  184;  chosen 
for  final  dash,  272;  hunting  trips, 
141,  179;  hunting  walrus,  81;  inter- 
preter, 109;  moving  supplies,  191; 
pioneer  division,  241;  repairing  sledge, 
246;  teaches  igloo  building,  172; 
visits  Eskimos,  73. 

House  where  Peary  wintered  in  1901-2, 
93. 

Hubbard,  General  Thomas  H.,  16,  25, 
124. 

Hubbard  Memorial  Hall,  363. 

Hubbardville,  124,  128. 

"Hudson,  the,"  226. 

Hudson,  Henry,  xv,    298;  Strait,  169. 

Hungarian  Geographical  Society,  medal 
of,  365. 

Ice  cake  ferry,  250,  308. 

Ice,  dynamiting  the,  115. 

Iceland,  345. 

Igloo,  construction  of  snow,  172,  173; 
construction  of  stone,  54,  57. 

Imperial  Austrian  Geographical  Society, 
medal  of,  365. 

Imperial  German  Geographical  Society, 
medal  of,  365. 

Independence,  Bay,  xxix,  18,  99,  151, 
276;  Bluff,  215. 

Inglefield,  180;  Gulf,  73. 

Indian  Harbor,  334. 

Indies,  xv,  xvi. 

Inighito,  141,  160,  167. 

Instrument  used  for  observation  at  the 
Pole,  288. 

Ikwah,  52,  271. 

Italian  record,  252,  269. 

Island,  Beaumont,  337;  Bennett,  344, 
346;  Blackwell,  25,  26;  Brevoort,  90; 
Gary,  38;  Duck,  37-39;  Eagle,  27,  28, 
31;  Flaxman,  344,  345;  Hakluyt,  73, 
New  Siberian,  49,  344;  Northumber- 
land, 73;  Prince  Patrick,  346;  Salvo, 
72;  Spitzbergen,  341,  342;  Tumavik, 
35. 

Itiblu  Glacier,  74. 

Jackman,  Captain,  28. 

Jackson,  xxvi. 

James  Ross  Bay,  143,  144,  155,  179. 

Jamestown,  xv. 

Jeannette,  s.s.,  xxiv,  xxv,  101,  345. 

Jefferds,  334. 

Jesup  Land,  295. 

Johanson,  xxv. 


Johnson,  76. 

Joseph  Henry,  Cape,  92,  222,  337. 

Joyce,  Patrick,  23,  326. 

Kalstenius,  38. 

Kamiks,  132,  209,  267. 

Kane  Basin,  36,  53,  73,  94,  342,  343. 

Kane,  Elisha  Kent,  xxii,  38,  180,  298. 

Kangerdlooksoah,  74. 

Karko,  141,  203,  253,  266. 

TCa.va.lca  42   68 

Kennedy  Channel,  102,  331,  342,  343. 

Kemah,  74. 

Keshungwah,  141,  168,  203,  253,  266. 

King  William  Land,  xx,  xxi. 

Kislingbury,  Lieut.,  329. 

"Kitchen  boxes,"  131,  139. 

Kite,  S.S.,  xxviii. 

Knitting  breaks  in  trail,  207. 

Koldewey,  180. 

Kookan,  74. 

Koolatoonah,  142,  146,  148,  153,  155. 

Kooletah,  131. 

Koolootingwah,  235. 

Kudlooktoo,  213, 218, 220, 231, 253,  319. 

Kyoahpahdo,  65. 

Kyutah,  141,  218,  220,  223,  227. 

Labrador,  32,  34,  35,  77. 

Lady  Franklin  Bay,  78,  168,  329. 

Lake  Hazen,  118, 127, 141, 179, 182, 188. 

Land  in  unknown  Arctic,  339. 

Lamed,  Walter  A.,  76. 

Leads,  196,  207,  221,  222,  236-285,  305. 

Lefiingwell,  345. 

Lena,  xxv. 

Lieber,  Cape,  102. 

Lincoln,  Bay,  93,  106,  J 10,  112,  117, 

118;  Sea,  91,  342. 
Lions  of  the  North,  79. 
Lockwood,  xxiii,  321,  337. 
Long  night,  162. 
Long,  Thomas,  xxiv. 
Low  Point  Light,  29. 
Lunar  hours,  341. 
Lunitidal  interval,  340. 

McCliutock,  Leopold,  xxi. 

McClure,  Robert,  xxi. 

McCormick  Bay,  xxix. 

MacMillan,  Prof.  Donald  B.,  career,  21; 
entertains  Eskimos,  231;  expedition 
to  Clements  Markham  Inlet,  157; 
finds  Greely  relics,  329;  his  Eskimos 
overcome,  158;  hunting  walrus,  81, 
82,83;  ill  with  grip,  128, 140;  moving 


INDEX 


371 


supplies,  191;  reached  ship,  325; 
reconnoitering,  117;  sent  back  for 
supplies,  227;  sounding,  222;  takes 
charge  of  sports,  185;  tidal  observa- 
tions, 167;  turns  back,  236. 

Magellan,  xxxii. 

Manchester  Geographical  Society,  hon- 
orary membership,  365. 

Markham,  Sir  Clepients,  xxiii,  xxx, 
49, 180,  222,  337. 

Marvin,  Prof.  Ross  G.,  appreciation  of 
his  work,  319;  celebrating,  184;  comes 
back  with  supplies,  235;  delayed  by 
leads,  308;  facsimile  of  certificate, 
356-358;  facsimile  of  observations, 
351-355;  last  message,  321;  news  of 
his  death,  318;  pioneer  division,  237, 
241,  243;  replaces  Alert's  record,  129; 
returns  to  "Crane  City,"  223;  return 
from  Cape  Bryant,  191;  soundings, 
222;  starts  for  Greenland  coast,  187; 
starts  south,  253;  takes  supplies  to 
Cape  Belknap,  138;  taking  observa- 
tions, 168,  249,  252;  teaching  igloo 
building,  172;  tidal  igloo  split  by 
pressure,  177. 

May,  Cape,  337. 

Mayen,  Jan,  xv. 

Mayflower,  s.s.,  26. 

Medals,  364,  365. 

Melville  Bay,  36,  37,  39,  40,  53. 

Melville,  G.  W.,  xxv.,  298. 

Meridian    observations,    method    of 
takmg,  288. 

Meteorological  observations,  339. 

Meteorology,  346. 

Method  for  loading  sledge,  209. 

Mikkelsen,  345. 

Mills,  Hugh  Robert,  180. 

Mongolian  types  among  Eskimos,  49. 

Monument  to  Marvin,  321. 

Morris  K.  Jesup,  Camp,  290;  Cape,  13, 
21,  253,  254,  295,  326,  328,  338,  348. 

Murphy,  Denis,  23,  82,  326. 

Murphy,  John,  20,  23,  75,  76. 

Musk-oxen,  110,  151-157,  183,  189- 
191. 

Nansen,  Dr.,  v,  xxv,  xxix,  xxx,  12,  121, 

180,  244,  251-254,  308. 
Nares,  George,  xxiii,  xxx,  180. 
Narkeeta,  s.s.,  26. 
Narwhal,  87,  132. 
National  Geographic  Society,  medal  of, 

365;  report  on  Peary's  record,  363; 

resolutions,  364. 


"Nautical   Almanac   and   Navigator,'' 

289. 
Navy  League,  30. 
Nelson,  xvi. 
Nerke,  74,  382. 
New  Bedford,  27. 
Newfoundland,  76. 
New  Land,  xxiv. 
Newman  Bay,  188. 
New  Siberian  Islands,  49,  344. 
New  York,  2,  3,  6,  12,  25,  26,  34,  37,  42, 

53,  76,  92,  111,  121. 
Nordenskjold,  11,  180. 
North  America,  xvi,  xix. 
Northeast  Passage,  xvi. 
Northern  Greenland,  53. 
North  Grant  Land,  90,  128,  194. 
North    Pole,    defined,    291;  flag,    335; 

hill,  309;  magnetic  xvii,  xix. 
North  River,  92. 
Nmih  Star,  s.s.,  27,  38. 
North  Star  Bay,  38,  73. 
North  Sydney,  29. 
Northumberland  Island,  73. 
Northwest  Passage,  xvi,  xviii.,  xx,  xxi. 
Norton,  George  S.,  76. 
Norway,  345. 

Norwegian  record,  250,  251. 
Note  to  Marvin,  232. 
Nova  Zembla,  xxvii. 
Nunatoksoah,  74. 

Observations,  tidal  and  meteorological, 

168,  188,  211,  243,  248,  266,  268,  284, 

287,  289,  290,  318,  329,  337,  339,  342, 

343,  350-355,  359,  362. 
Ocean,  Arctic,  4,  49,  193,  216,  337,  344; 

Atlantic,  xx,  xxi,  343;  Pacific,  xxi. 
Odometer,  211. 
Ohlsen,  38. 
Onkilon,  49. 
"On  the  Polar  Star  in  the  Arctic  Sea," 

180. 
Onwagipsoo,  142. 
Ooblooyah,  117,  142,  143,  146,  147,  149, 

153,  155,  167. 
Ookeyah,  117. 
Oomunnui,  73. 
Ooqueah,  52,  69,  73,  141,  203,  247,  253, 

269,  271,  304. 
Ootah,  7,  69,  76,  117,  141,  235,  253.  267, 

269,  271,  316. 
Oyster  Bay,  26. 

Pacific  Ocean,  xxi. 
Panikpah,  141, 191,  230. 


372 


INDEX 


Paraselene,  175. 
Parhelion,  176. 
Parish,  Henry,  16. 
Parr,  337. 

Parry,  xvii,  xviii,  xix,  xxiii,  xxx;  Pen- 
insula, 145,  159. 
Payer,  xxvi,  180;  Harbor,  92,  93,  94. 
Peabody,  Geo.,  xxii. 
"  Pearyaksoah,"  52. 
Peary  Arctic  Club,  13,  15,  25,  26,  27,  95, 

103,  124,  204,  253,  326,  334,  335. 
Peary  Land,  342. 
Peary,  Marie  Ahnighito,  31,  130. 
Peary,  Mrs.  Robert  E.,  xxix,  19,  26,  27, 

29,  30,  45,  49,  93,  186,  294,  299,  334. 
Peary,  Robert  E.,  Jr.,  29,  113. 
"Peary,"  sledge,  122, 135, 174,  217,  219, 

237,  277. 
Peary's  observation,  April  6,  facsimile, 

362. 
"Peary  system,"  201. 
Percy,  Charles,  20,  23,  32,  99,  113,  130, 

164,  181,  184,  186,  326,  327. 
Percy,  George,  23,  326. 
Permanent  monument,  325. 
Petersen,  38,  128. 
Philadelphia      Geographical      Society, 

medal  of,  365. 
Phipps,  J.  C,  xvi. 
Piblokto,  166,  167,  178. 
Pilgrim  Fathers,  xv. 
Pingahshoo,  184. 

Pioneer  party,  203-205,  214,  237,  241. 
Pitlekaj,  344,  345. 
Plan,  3. 

Plymouth  Rock,  xv. 
Point,  Aldrich,  339,  340,  343,  345,  347 

348;  Amour  Light,  33,  34;  Barrow, 

344-346;  Good,  159;  Moss,  4. 
Polar,  Basm,  345;  bear,  54,  75,  79, 130, 

132,  146, 156,  169,  252,  309,  315;  Sea, 

5,  88,  90,  134,  193,  195,  206,  207,  237, 

265,  262,  315,  320. 
Polaris,  B.8.,  xxiii,  38,  91,  102. 
Polaris  Promontory,  188,  190. 
Polar  pack,  337. 
Poodloonah,  141, 167,  230,  253. 
Porter  Bay,   118,   120,   134,   140,   142, 

143,  276. 
Pressure  ridges,  194,  196,  205,  207,  217, 

250,  260,  261. 
Prince  Patrick  Island,  346. 
Princess  Marie  Bay,  100. 
Pritchard,  William,  23,  75. 
Proteus,  S.8.,  91. 
Protococcus  nivalis,  72. 


Rae,  XX. 

Raven,  Anton  A.,  16. 

Rawson,  Cape,  120,  317. 

Record  of  1906,  262. 

Recrossing  the  "big  lead"  in  1906,  41. 

Redclifi'e  Peninsula,  74. 

Red  Cross  flag,  296. 

"Red  snow,"  72. 

Regan,  331. 

Reindeer,  54,  110,  118,  143,  183. 

Relay  parties,  187. 

Return  in  November,  1906,  32. 

Return  of  the  sun,  227. 

Richardson,  Cape,  134,  138,  140,  168. 

Robertson  Bay,  74. 

Robeson  Channel,  77, 102, 122, 134, 168, 
188,  190,  328,  329,  342. 

Roosevelt,  Mrs.  Theodore,  26,  27. 

Roosevelt,  the,  after  deckhouse,  31; 
aground,  115;  American  built,  19; 
at  Lincoln  Bay,  112;  bucking  ice,  100, 
110;  cairn,  129;  caught  off  Victoria 
Head,  95;  collision  with  berg,  89; 
damaged  by  ice,  114,  119;  departure 
from,  213;  Eskimo  quarters  on,  98, 
124;  goes  on  to  Etah,  73;  gripped  in 
the  ice,  177;  igloos  on  deck,  175;  in 
storm,  1906,  32;  in  winter  quarters, 
126;  leaves  Etah,  89;  leaves  Lincoln 
Bay,  118;  leaves  New  York,  25; 
leaves  Sydney,  29;  leaving  Cape 
York,  72;  leaving  winter  quarters, 
331;  loaded  deep,  77;  loading  walrus, 
87;  method  of  procedure,  91,  92; 
passing  Cape  Sabine,  94;  passing 
Payer  Harbor,  93;  Peary's  cabin  on, 
30;  put  in  fighting  trim,  75;  reaches 
Cape  Breton,  334;  reaches  Cape 
Sheridan,  120;  reaches  Cape  York, 
42;  repairs  and  changes,  13;  return 
to,  317,  325;  return  to  Battle  Harbor, 
334;  standing  by  hunters,  80;  steam- 
ing northward,  36;  unloading,  122; 
visits  Eagle  Island,  27;  winter  home 
on  the,  162,  166. 

Roosevelt,  Theodore,  viii,  26,  27,  30, 
339;  his  good-by  to  Peary,  vii. 

Ross,  James  Clark,  xix,  334. 

Ross,  Capt.  John,  72,  xviii. 

Route  of  return  in  1906,  304. 

Royal  Belgian  Geographical  Society, 
medal  of,  365. 

Royal  Geographical  Society  of  Antwerp, 
medal  of,  365. 

Royal  Geographical  Society  of  London, 
49;  medal  of,  365. 


INDEX 


373 


Royal  Italian  Geographical  Society, 
medal  of,  365. 

Royal  Netherlands  Geographical  Society 
of  Amsterdam,  honorary  member- 
ship, 365. 

Royal  Scottish  Geographical  Society, 
special  trophy,  365. 

Sabine,  Cape,  39,  89,  94,  95,  124,  332. 

Sagamore  Hill,  27. 

Sail  Harbor,  134,  142,  146.  165. 

Salvo  Island,  72. 

Sanderson  Hope,  xv. 

Sandy  Hook,  168. 

Saumarez,  Cape,  74,  332. 

Scoresby,  William,  xxvii. 

Scotch  whalers,  37. 

Scott,  Banks,  23,  326. 

Scott,  Capt.,  180. 

Seal,  65,  250. 

Secretary  of  Commerce  and  Labor,  339. 

Seegloo,  69,  73,  141,  167,  203,  234,  269, 

271,  299. 
Shedah,  a.s.,  334. 
Sheridan,  Cape,  5,  6, 38, 77,  88-129,  157, 

168,  178, 193,  213,  325,  330,  332,  339, 

349. 
Siberia,  xxiv,  49,  344,  345. 
"Siege  of  the  South  Pole,"  180. 
Skeans,  Patrick,  23,  326. 
Sledge,  Eskimo,  122,  135,  217,  219,  237, 

277;  "Peary,"  122,  135,  174,  217,  219, 

237,  277. 
Smith  Sound,  xxvii,  3,  5,  76,  77,  124, 

180,  342,  343. 
Sonntag,  38,  321. 
Sounding  apparatus,  210. 
Soundings,  210,  222,  227,  236,  246,  262, 

304,  309,  329,  337,  338. 
"Southern    Cross    Expedition    to    the 

Antarctic,"  180. 
Spitzbergen  Islands,  xv,  xvii,  341,  342 
St.  Charles,  Cape,  34. 
St.  George,  Cape,  35. 
Stepping  Stone  Light,  26. 
"Storm  camp,"  243,  306. 
Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  3,  32. 
Styx,  225,  226. 
Summer  solstice,  330. 
Supplies,  23. 

Supporting  party,  204,  206. 
Sydney,  C.  B.,  3,  6,  23,  28,  29,  32,  42, 

77,  299,  334. 

Tampa,  Florida,  42. 
Tasmania,  xix. 
Tawchingwah,  141. 


Temperature  tables,  346,  347. 

Tents,  139. 

Teplitz  Bay,  345. 

Terror,  s.s.,  xix. 

Thank  God  Harbor,  102. 

Thanksgiving  Day,  179. 

Thomas  Hubbard,  Cape,  21,  110,  296, 

325. 
Tide,  staves,  339;  table,  340. 
Tiger  of  the  North,  79. 
Tigress,  ship,  xxiii. 
Tittmann,  Supt.  0.  H.,  337,  364. 
Tookoomah,  187. 

Tomarsuk,  64,  147,  148,  160,  215,  219. 
Toxingwa,  168. 
Transportation  of  supplies,   130,   134, 

191  327. 
Tupiks,  44,  54,  58,  59. 
Tumavik  Island,  35. 
Tyrian,  s.s.,  334. 

Unexplored  inlet,  164. 

Union,  Cape,  110,  118,  188,  332. 

United  States,  170,  316. 

Victoria  Head,  96. 

Victory,  s.s.,  xviii. 

"  Voyage  of  the  Discovery,"  180. 

"  Voyage  to  the  Polar  Sea,"  180. 

Wakiva,  s.s.,  34. 

Walrus,  xvi,  66,  77,  79,  80-87,  169,  333. 

Walrus-hunting,  80-87. 

Wardwell,  George  A.,  20,  23,  101,  326. 

Weekly  bill  of  fare,  164. 

Weesockasee,  158. 

Wesharkoupsi,  84, 85, 142, 145, 168,  235. 

Weyprecht,  xxvi,  180. 

Whale-boat.  29,  31,  79,  80,  84,  95,  123. 

Whale  factories,  34. 

Whale  Sound,  3,  54,  74,  79,  87,  328. 

Whales,  xvi. 

White  Nile.  viii. 

Whitney.  Harry,  76,  333. 

Willoughby,  321. 

Windward,  s.s.,  93,  130. 

Winter  solstice,  184. 

Wiseman.  John,  23,  326. 

Wolf,  64. 

Wolf.  Dr..  20. 

Wolstenholm  Sound,  73,  79. 

"World's  Ensign  of  Liberty  and  Peace," 

296. 
Wrangell  Land,  xxiv. 

York,  Cape,  32,  36.  39-46,  70-73,  271, 
334. 


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fiO<J' 


IVIiCIure's(Br.)  Northwest 

Passage, 1850-'53 

Second  German  North  Pole 
Expedition,  1869-'70  — *— ■ 


%  «Pear,,  April  21,  1902         ^„       *''''A'^'.,/S^«:#4«'■^V°M «»'" 


90"      /-f^, 

SMITH  SOUND  j^Jff:^ 

0  50        100       150 


.t^l.i 


,»i»*. 


otn    S 


■tVliOi'f  *  =<Mar^liam 
.1.0^     .Vn«»  Ur^^  Ti  ih: 


Lockwood'and  Bri 


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l/ISk,-. 


100 


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Tiizuvsk  ^ 


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vV4v         Laiidii 


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j.uiai 


-Wi 


Noted  Exiilorei-N  of  the 
iVMKIilOAX 

(Smitta  Sound)  lioute 

Elisha  Kent  Kane 
[American)  1853-55 

Isaac  Israel  Hayes 
>,Amorioati)1860-61 

Charles  F.  Hall 
(AmerioaiO  1370-73 

Sir  George  Nares 
(English)  1875-76 

General  A.  W.  Greely 

(Amencanj  ia'8(-84 
Com.  R.  E  Peary 
(AmBrican)1891-09 

Com.  R.  E.  Peary 

attained  the  Pole 

1909 


,.f^      iff 


tJ- 


'  .^' 


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I^vncr  uaiisal 


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'15. 


■.  Se.llii/at:/.;  Bay 


B/7.'\  >^    /    /'        V^/,;  21fl<?»v  . 


/ 

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V.' /  V'      'V6>  '  5r(t*sr        r     t/  CMaurliilis 

'^  ■  TV  "^    wLoiicly  X./  iKdi 

'     '  Discovered  Aug. 2^,  1  873      Great  Ice  Cicpti' 


<^»VSspt.V,-i87S 


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Deli«ng 


0 


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I.  '  X''"'//  11155       l^ll-N       X- 


\J3       A   .,    ^' 


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"^  \\    May  1 


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I 
I 


Nov.14,1872«:::sj/     >.^ 

F;cb.2,1873*.^         /    ~4<  J. 

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s 


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TxAug.2/      ,--        jSTMarch  31 
1    ^'--.'-.fS'-   121  SB 


XV       ^^  April  6,  1895  W^J^-^'HXf'l^f 

A        A.  86°  14'  cagnl     F  '  '«'X'^.<<,^ 


S:f^4^ 


Cagni 
April  25,1900  * 
86°34' 


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I  May  27 


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'irff^l    -^    '^ 


W/(  IrMi'ipi ) 


Pea'"v,  arrived  Aj2_i!l  G,  1909 

North  Tir  Pole  

'ftPeary,  left  April  7,  1909 


^  'S              t   -       ^~^.'Sept,20 

Anadir  fccl.uklehe,^'''  "'".",'«■ 

'    i;    ■^'-■'-"'^       i^  '^    iP,tl'^^#Fv';a.*\(Norilenskjold)          \ 

(A  ,      >,  ^_„          ^     5  --■.            ;-        _,— -— ""^l         IleralU  Bank 

Arakam  I.  1^^         ^        '      '-■         ^ ' 


C,  Hawaii  _ 

Plover  I.'      *^^ 
IleraUl  l.»^-  ^ 

^•^o^    ^^  ■'      , -Sept. iy, 1831 


,   Melville  -    Bryant         Casks  Qontlnitm  Day 

March  .il  to  Scmtembcr  i 


,  Ftary,    April 
l^  2  1     1  c)  0  R 


¥>^ 


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p-  «" 


Pf.  Barrow 

■<(f<e  Bay  18^7 
%Halkett 


/ 

Bradley  Lai 

Crockcf  LfUK 

/  't  y/-^- 
Seen  t 


,  77„„    "^'"-st        Iro, 


\    \  1-jJ  ■■\  xl90/ 


C 


likkelsen,   April   1  007 


V^o\      i    «/.-. 


Peary  s  ^ 
Explor- 
ations: 

Over  the 
inland  Ice  of\ 

Greenland, 

1886 
Across 

Greenland,  18 
Second  Crossing 
of  Greenland.  1895~^ 
Around  Northern 

end  of  Greenland, 

1900 
Trip  towards  North 

Pole,  1902 
Nearest  the 

Pole,  1906  , 

Attained 

the  Foley 

1909  , 


ftmn  Keef 
Franklin,  1826 


'A 


SX;.,. 


;  Colllnson,    1853-4 
aini(';n  Bail 


eniarciitionLPt. 

j[|i-.-,ciiiin! 


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C.l\/iai)iiiiigv 


1-r    ''OV       .O     %         j*'i 


Aldrich.May  1  7, 
/    C.AI/red  S 
c      (^'"<ys  / 

'r"p  iil% 

homas  Hubbard    'Jff'J 

ary,  J.Line  1  906/ 
Sverdrup  1  900,4'''? 


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K"«s  I.  .,  Lirtle  Table  I. 


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